What's in a Name?
by Queen Kordeilia
Summary: AU as of chapter 5. Moments in Nagini's life, I guess? Rated T for implied rape.
1. circa 1910s

**A/N: I'm totally crap at titles. I've got a lot of fanfic I have to complete and since I haven't written in a long time, I decided to write this to see how much my writing skills have declined. The answer is a lot, methinks.**

 **This fic is based on part of a dream I had a few days (nights?) ago. Yes, I'm a weirdo who dreams about dramas/movies I watch. In fact, this is my second dream fic.**

 **The main character does not have a name.** **Eomma means mum. Have a fun time figuring who tf 'she' is.**

* * *

c. 1910s

The sky was still dark when she woke up, the only sources of light illuminating the forest being a number of stars and the barely visible crescent moon. She shivered, curling up into a ball and pulling the blanket over her head. She'd never get back to sleep now. Turning over, she reached out across the makeshift bed, frowning when she realised that her mother wasn't there. Of course, this wasn't the first time she'd woken up to find her mother missing; her mother would up and leave every other night, always while her daughter was still sleeping. However, this was the second night in a row. Where was her mother disappearing off to and why? The secrecy of it all left her with an unsettling feeling. She tossed and turned, trying to ignore the feeling, trying to go back to sleep.

The next time she opened her eyes, she'd just been jostled awake by her mother. After sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she surveyed her mother who was bustling around, preparing breakfast. Something close to breakfast, anyway. For as long as she could remember, her mother had always looked rundown and exhausted but never so much so that she looked unhealthy. The woman in front of her did. Sallow skin, red eyes, hollow cheeks. She tried not to stare but she couldn't look away. Such a drastic change, literally overnight. Whatever her mother had been doing out there last night, or rather in the early morning, had taken a toll on her.

"Eomma?" she muttered, slowly moving off the bed and standing up. "Where did you go last night?" That wasn't what she had wanted to ask but she'd blurted it out regardless.

"Not now," Eomma responded, motioning for her to sit down with her. "Later," she added, shoving a plate of meagre helpings towards her.

Knowing that her mother was a woman of few words, she dropped the subject and began to eat, wondering, not for the first time, what the world beyond their forest was like.

.:. QK .:.

Another mundane day passed by and before she knew it, it was time to retire for the night. Unsure of whether her mother would disappear for the fourth night in a row, she literally laid in wait until she could find out either way. She tried to ignore the guilty feeling weighing down on her chest, reminding herself of why she had to do this. While she felt like she was betraying her mother's trust, she couldn't help but feel like her mother was betraying her right back. Despite spending the last two days patiently waiting for Eomma to tell her what was going on, she still knew nothing about her mother's nighttime escapades. Nothing at all. Eomma had to know how worried she was, waking up to find her mother missing in the dead of the night, waking up again to find her looking iller than the night before, and yet she didn't feel the need to even begin explaining it to her. Whatever _it_ was.

Sure enough, around two hours after turning in for the night, she felt her mother stir and get up. Continuing to feign sleep, she waited until the crunching footsteps faded away before opening her eyes and throwing the blanket off her body. Sitting up, she wondered how on earth she was supposed to see anything in the darkness of the forest. Her mother had probably used the wand lighting charm but she had yet to acquire her own wand let alone learn how to use magic. As she stepped out of the shelter, though, something overcame her and she suddenly found that she didn't need a light source.

As if under some sort of trance, she gracefully walked through the pitch black forest, heading towards something she couldn't even see. Instead of being met with the usual silence she had come to associate with the forest, she could hear hissing, slithering, twigs breaking, leaves crunching, and other noises she simply couldn't identify. As she walked further and further into the unknown, her skin started tingling and her chest began to feel somewhat heavy. Gradually, the hisses grew louder and louder until she could practically hear them in her mind, hear _herself_ hissing, and she cast a glance at her arms to see them changing colour and becoming scaly. All of a sudden, she fell forwards and hit the forest floor, her whole world going dark...

.:. QK .:.

The following morning, she found herself waking up in her own bed rather than on the cold forest floor. Yawning, she took a moment to stretch her arms and legs, only to regret it when she felt jolts of pain run through her stiff muscles. All fleeting thoughts of the previous night having been a dream—or nightmare—vanished from her mind as she tried to remember what had happened right before she had blacked out. Remembering the reason she'd snuck into the depths of the forest in the first place, she turned her head to the open side of the shelter and peered out. She hissed, realising too late that her neck muscles were just as stiff as the rest of them, inadvertently reminding herself of the constant and incessant hissing she'd heard in the forest the night before.

"You're awake," Eomma said, appearing in her line of sight mere seconds later. She knelt next to the bed, an unreadable expression on her face. "How are you?"

"Eomma, I heard something yesterday," she began, wincing as her head spun a little. "I heard hissing coming from the depths of the forest..."

"I know," Eomma replied, stroking her daughter's hair and smiling sadly. She rose to her feet, turning away from her daughter and standing in front of the open part of the shelter.

She heard her mother sigh as she presumably stared at the area of the forest they had both ventured into the night before. "What happened to me?"

"You became a woman," Eomma responded, her back still turned to her.

Her eyes widened. She was not yet twelve and, from what she understood, a girl became a woman when— No. _That_ had not happened to her. Tears stung at her eyes. She was too young. No one besides she and her mother resided in the forest. How...?

"I had hoped this wouldn't happen until you were at least thirteen as I was... the first time." Her face grew red, and she couldn't help but feel angry. Why had her own mother stood by and let this happen to her? Was this the horrid reason she was sneaking into the forest every night? How could she not warn her? "But when you started bleeding, I knew it wouldn't be long before you first transformed."

Transformed. The word stopped her in her tracks, her momentary anger towards her mother quickly forgotten as memories of the prior night assaulted her mind. Scales. Hissing. Her ankles fusing together, causing her to hit the ground. She remembered it all, even what happened after her supposed blackout; she recalled manoeuvring through the forest at floor level, slithering across the leaves and twigs on the soily ground, spotting a large viper not far from her, and witnessing said viper transforming into a woman—a woman she knew all too well.

"You're a snake!" she accused, cringing at how bad it sounded but not regretting that she'd said it.

Eomma turned her head towards her so fast that she had to have whiplash. "No," she said firmly, her gaze as cold as ice. " _We're_ snakes."

* * *

 **A/N: Lol, she's a python in the HP films but I'm not sure what she is in FB? I mean, she looks a little different... or is that just me? In the books, she seems to be more of a viper so that's what I've gone with. After all, pythons are not venomous but Nagini is.**

 **Since we don't know much about maledicti (pl?), I assumed that the mother's beast form is the same as the daughter's. I also assumed a lot of other things like Nagini isn't really her name (come on, who would name their daughter 'snake lady'), that her father isn't in the picture (because no one in their right mind would want a snake for a partner/wife), that the maledictus can't turn into her beast form until after she hits puberty e.t.c.**

 **Please don't take offense if I've imagined her backstory to be very different to the one you've thought up for her.**

 **Bye!**


	2. 1926–1927

**A/N: It wrote itself. Really. Someone please get a character tag made for our favourite maledictus.**

* * *

Dec 1926 – early 1927

Nagini.

It wasn't her name. It wasn't even a Korean name. She didn't know where they got the name from but after a certain amount of time at the circus, the name just stuck and she no longer felt the need to chastise them. No one ever found out her real name and she liked it that way. She hadn't been the young and innocent forest dwelling witch for a long time now and drawing a connection between that naive girl and the circus 'snake girl' she was now didn't seem right. Sometimes, just sometimes, she even forgot what her birth name was.

"Nagini," he whispered, standing right outside her cage. "Are you awake?"

He didn't know either.

He, her only friend, didn't know much about her other than her possessing the ability to turn into a snake at will and the fact that she disliked their ringmaster. She didn't have the heart to tell him what she really was. From the very first time she laid eyes on him, she could see that although he was a troubled soul who had his own set of demons to deal with, he was only temporarily passing through the circus. He wasn't restricted to circus work, not in the way that she was. One day, he'd overcome whatever had forced him to join the circus and would move on to bigger and better things. She wouldn't. He'd only needlessly worry about her if she told him the truth. She didn't want that.

That was why she currently fell back on her old tactic of pretending to be asleep, sighing in relief when she heard him walking away from her cage. The last week—the interval between the last show and the next—had been uneventful for her and, as a result, she hadn't transformed in a week. The snake was squirming inside her, making her restless and unable to sleep. It was begging to be released.

Now was as good a time as any; _he_ had probably gone back to the menial workers' quarters, and the other circus acts, many of them magical creatures like herself, all seemed to be asleep. There was no one around to watch her and then ask why an Animagus would randomly take her animal form in the middle of the night. After one last scan of her surroundings, she wrapped her arms around her body, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Within seconds, she transformed into a viper.

.:. QK .:.

One would think that freaks would understand one another and get along, becoming friends as they navigated through their wretched lives together. One would be wrong. After over a decade spent living with various types of outcasts like her, she had yet to hear a nice word from any of them let alone form a meaningful connection with one. The others looked upon her in disdain, letting her know that they were disgusted that they'd all been captured and forced into this line of work whereas she'd walked into the circus all on her own, becoming the show's star attraction along the way. They thought that her life was so easy. They knew nothing. They couldn't even begin to understand.

The ringmaster was no better. He couldn't care less about any of them; they were nothing more than business tools to him. He treated her only a little less cruelly than the others, and that was because she brought in the most money. That didn't stop him from keeping her in a cage, though. He obviously knew that without the cage, she could slither away from him whenever she damn well pleased. Not that she would. She had nowhere else to go. Her mother had long since succumbed to her curse and the money that had allowed for a quiet life in the forest was all gone by the end of her first year living alone. As long as the circumstances remained the same, she would stay with the Circus Arcanus.

The others sneered at her as they returned to their cages, no doubt having received a beating or two from the ringmaster. She glared at them in response, not looking away until they all looked away first, one by one. Sometimes, she worried that her face would become stuck in a permanent scowl long before her entire body became stuck in her beast form.

She smiled when _he_ joined her, sitting down next to her and silently offering her his bowl of soup. She shook her head in response, realising that she probably looked worse for wear after the previous night's transformation. Since the ringmaster hardly thought they deserved mirrors, she had no way of knowing. While her mother had failed to pass on certain bits of knowledge pertaining their curse to her, she had figured out for herself that as her permanent transformation loomed closer, it would take a toll on her appearance—towards the end of her human life, she'd look frail, gaunt and tired.

She shook her head again, this time to herself, wondering why her appearance suddenly mattered to her. It was all for nought when she'd never be as human as the man sat next to her.

.:. QK .:.

They didn't really talk much, him and her, often sitting together in companionable silence. She didn't mind. Having spent the first twelve years of her life in a secluded forest meant that she was ill-equipped for socialising and very much preferred quiet to constant chatter. Looking over at _him_ as he worked, she wondered what his story was. The haunted look in his eyes told her that he'd been through a lot in his first twenty-five years or so of life and was still hurting despite having started a new life here.

It was strange how quickly they had taken to one another, at least in her eyes; she had never been one to trust easily and he struck her as someone who had trusted too easily and had paid the price for it. If anything, they should have avoided each other like the plague. And yet, she had a hard time imagining such a scenario because in their short time together, she already felt like she'd known him her whole life.

Kindred spirits, she thought, as he approached her. The term fit them well.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked, referring to the ringmaster who was heard yelling at someone from the other end of the tent.

"No," she answered, noticing him tightening his jaw and becoming a few notches paler. The ringmaster was practically roaring now, and one of the workers was heard crying out in pain. She winced, trying to get a handle on her nerves as she gently placed a hand on his arm, leading him farther away from the commotion. "He's not even the worst ringmaster I've seen."

She realised she'd made a mistake when he tensed up. "You've worked in other circuses before?"

"Three," she replied, her hand still on his arm as she gestured for him to sit down with her. He complied, and the pair of them settled on the bench near the entrance of the tent. She released his arm, hardly able to hear the ringmaster now. "One non-magical, two wizarding."

"What did you do at the non-magical circus?" he questioned, seeming a little less on edge than before.

"I was a dancer," she responded, recalling her time spent in said circus. "They dubbed me an Arab belly dancer. I don't think they even realised that I'm Korean." She rolled her eyes at the ignorance of the Non-Magiques. "If they did, they just didn't care."

"But then why did you leave dance for this?" he asked, looking and sounding confused.

"Actually, I left this for dancing. I did the snake act at my first wizarding circus before dancing for the Non-Magiques. Dancing was okay, sometimes I liked the attention of the men, but it didn't feel right. Sometimes they wanted more... more than I was willing to give." She shuddered at the last thought. "So I left for the second wizarding circus. Circumstance forced me to leave that one a while later and join this one."

He nodded. "As you know, this is my first job. I don't think I'd be able to do this work a second time, let alone a fourth."

"You shouldn't," she told him, her voice soft. "You're too good."

It dawned on her that she must have said the wrong thing because right after she spoke, he suddenly stood up and bowed his head in apparent shame. "You wouldn't say that if you knew what I'd done," he said quietly, not looking at her.

She remained seated, watching as he returned to work, the last few words playing over and over again in her head.

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 **A/N: Idk why I have an aversion to referring to characters by the name. But hey at least there's a name at the beginning!**


	3. 1927

Early/mid 1927

She stared at the poster, unable to tear her gaze away from the offensive word. Maledictus. The bright red word stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of French words, much like she did amongst the circus' other acts. Her eyes remained fixated on that same spot, even after one of the workers removed the poster and took it away. Maledictus. She gulped, the blood in her veins practically frozen.

"Hey, you!" the ringmaster shouted, making her jump out of her skin. She quickly turned her head in the direction of his voice, releasing a shaky breath when she saw the ringmaster stomping towards another circus freak.

Knowing that it did her no good to just stand there like a fool, she lowered her head and made a run for it, bumping right into someone. "Sorry!" she exclaimed, rubbing her arm as she looked up and saw _him_ standing right in front of her, doing the same.

"You okay?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She could've sworn that there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, something that would've pleasantly surprised her if it were any other day but today.

"Fine," she replied flatly, eager to get back to her cage for once in her life. Without so much as another glance at him, she stepped past him and headed for her cage.

Feeling slightly bad about dismissing his concern for her, she didn't stop when she heard his footsteps hot on her heel. Stopping right outside the cage, she turned and pressed her back against the bars, steadying herself. Maledictus. The word was still playing on her mind.

"Do you know what Maledictus means?" She almost laughed hysterically at the seemingly innocent question. Clearly, the fates were conspiring against her.

"It means cursed to eventually turn into a beast," she answered, glad that her fellow English-speaking freaks weren't in their cages at the present moment. "Eternally."

He said nothing, reaching down and taking her hand in his. It was a gesture of goodwill, meant to be of some comfort to her, but all the sympathy in the world wouldn't be able to expunge the curse from her body. While he didn't appear to openly pity her after this new revelation, she just knew that he wouldn't look at her in the same way anymore; he'd see her as someone who was ill, someone who needed help, someone who needed protection. He wouldn't see her as an equal. He wouldn't see her as a friend.

Still, she squeezed his hand in return, silently thanking him for just being there. Everyone needed someone and for her, he was it, at least for the moment.

.:. QK .:.

Days after she first saw the wretched poster, the ringmaster still hadn't paid her the visit she'd long been dreading. Tired of the constant anticipation, she decided to go and confront him herself. That was how she found herself standing in his 'office', squirming as the large man took his time attending to other tasks before actually acknowledging her.

"So, Nagini," he began, his back turned to her as he fed some pet of his. She bit her lip, trying not to let her irritation show. "Why did you want to see me?"

It was now or never. She had to know what he was planning to do to her now that he knew about her condition. She had to know if she'd be forced to follow in her mother's footsteps. The disgusting thought of the possibility made her skin crawl but she urged herself to focus. "Who told you that I'm a Maledictus?" she came right out with it, hoping she sounded confident.

"No one!" he answered cheerfully, finally turning around to face her. She watched as he leisurely sat down on his office chair, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him. "I just thought it sounded good. Better than 'Snake Girl' or 'The Animagus', don't you think?"

She refrained from sighing in relief. She'd been worrying for days over _nothing_. She fought the urge to smile. The ringmaster didn't know her secret yet but if she looked too happy about him not knowing, even he'd be able to figure out the truth. She decided to push on, feeling the need to throw him off. "Don't you know think that telling a lie like that is really risky? What if someone clearly sees that I'm not a Maledictus and lets the whole audience know?"

He laughed as if she'd said something stupid. Maybe she had. "The non-magical folk already think it's all fake. I doubt the wizards really care about the authenticity of our circus acts."

She managed to force out a laugh, not knowing how else to react to the statement. "I see."

To her dismay, instead of ridiculing her and/or dismissing her, he leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at her. "But since when have _you_ cared about the well being of _my_ circus?"

She straightened her back and stood tall, giving nothing away. "It's my livelihood," she said, shrugging for a nonchalant effect. "If something happens to the circus, I'll have to look for another job... won't I?"

For a painfully long moment, he just stared at her and she had to force herself to not take to her heels. She wondered if she'd made her concern too obvious and thus done the exact opposite of what she had wanted to do. The ringmaster was usually really easy to read, his only two emotions being anger and intense happiness (most often when a show raked in a lot of money), but his face looked eerily blank to her at the present moment. She was sure that she was doomed when he merely nodded and waved her off.

She wasted no time getting out of there.

.:. QK .:.

"You've been avoiding me."

She didn't need to look up to know who it was. "I haven't," she instantly protested. "I'm not," she added with a sigh, patting the spot next to her without taking her eyes off the horizon. "It's just been a difficult few days for me... but I'm fine now."

"You could have told me about what was bothering you."

Truthfully, she'd been embarrassed to face him after he found out the truth about her. She hadn't even attempted to tell him not to reveal it to others. Not that she thought he would anyway. In all honesty, she thought he would start avoiding her first. After all, what was the point in being friends with someone who'd eventually become nothing more than an animal? She looked at him now, surprised to see the warmth in his eyes.

"Doesn't mean that I _should_ have told you," she said, averting her gaze and feeling guilty. "I didn't think you'd understand."

"I'm an obscurial." Of all the things she'd expected him to say, this wasn't it. The word was new to her. Judging from the expression on his face, it wasn't a good thing. "I've got this dark sort of power inside me, waiting to burst free and cause destruction. It's— _I've_ —killed before. I've taken the lives of my sister and God knows how many other innocents."

"Your sister?" she asked, not knowing why she chose to question him about that rather than the killings. Well, other than the fact that she couldn't believe that he'd willingly hurt anyone let alone _kill_ someone. He couldn't even stand it when the ringmaster so much as raised his voice.

"One of two. Both younger than me. We were all adopted by the same woman." So he was an orphan too. The revelation wasn't really shocking—those who joined travelling circuses usually didn't have any family—but it was sad that the two of them had yet another negative thing in common. He still didn't strike her as a killer, though.

"What happened to your other sister?" she questioned carefully. "And your mother?"

"My youngest sister's in an orphanage. It's safer for her to be there rather than around me," he explained, closing his eyes. "I thought I was protecting her when I killed our mother. Instead, I ended up killing our sister as well."

Her eyes widened at the confession. He'd willingly killed his mother. She remembered what he'd told her not too long ago about how she wouldn't call him good if she knew what he'd done. But then again, he said he'd killed his mother to protect his sister. Twenty-five odd years ago, her mother had done something similar to protect her. If that wasn't enough to convince her, the way that he was trembling, the way he was clearly holding back tears, indicated that he regretted the way things had turned out.

"I'm sorry," she uttered softly, knowing that his mother had to have been an awful person to warrant such a killing. She inched closer to him, pausing for a second before resting her head on his shoulder.

As a general rule, she didn't really touch other people and didn't let others touch her either. Thanks to her dancing days, she knew that people often misunderstood young women who were too friendly. Her skin tight Snake Girl dress didn't help much. It was different with him _,_ though. She felt the need to comfort him because it looked like no one else ever had. She found solace in his arms, and she liked to think that it was the same for him.

She got her answer when he hesitantly snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

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 **A/N:** **Thanks to The Gryffindor Pukwudgie for the review. I'm glad you liked the way I've written Nagini. Unfortunately, I don't think she's going to be anything more than fanservice and emotional support to Credence. I'm Asian too so I get where you're coming from.**


	4. Late 1927

Late 1927

The Dark wizard was not trustworthy at all. She could see what his real agenda was from a mile away, especially given his past with her dear friend. The wizard obviously wanted _him_ for his power, for what a great asset he would be to his cause. She was disappointed that he couldn't see it. After all this time, he still placed his trust far too easily in the wrong people.

"He's evil, Credence!" she exclaimed, pacing around on the rooftop of the latest building they'd been staying in. "He's used you before. You said so yourself!"

"But I don't care about him," he said, steadying himself on the rooftop. "I just want to know who I am."

"Even if means joining a Dark wizard?"

He didn't answer straight away, something that was worrying in itself. He should have replied in an instant, in the negative. "I'm not joining him," he assured her, holding his arms up. "I'll just go to his rally and see what he has to say. Maybe I'll find something out while I'm there."

"Or you'll walk right into a trap he's set up for you," she told him, crossing her arms.

"Nagini," he started, walking over to her. "Ma"—he shook his head—"Mary Lou told me that my mother was unnatural. My mother must've been a witch. There's no other explanation. The gathering will be full of witches and wizards. Maybe I'll meet someone there who knew her. Maybe I'll even meet my father."

She bristled at the mention of the word 'father'. He seemed to notice this and asked what was wrong.

"What if this father of yours turns out to be a Dark wizard too? Or someone like Skender? Or someone equally as bad?" she asked in rapid succession. "What will you do?"

He remained silent, apparently lost for words. She never wanted to tell him about her messed up origins, her messed up conception, but she felt like she had no choice at present. If her past could prevent him from making a mistake in the near future, she was going to use it.

"I was once like you, Credence. I wanted to know who my father"—she spat the word out—"was, what he was like, what he did for a living, all of those little things. My mother always ignored my questions about him when I was younger. It wasn't something that could be explained to a child but I think she was also trying to protect me. I think she hoped that I would lose interest. I didn't. When I got a little bit older, she started calling him a—never mind. I think the closest English translation is 'despicable man'. She still refused to answer my questions, though.

"Then, after my first transformation, she started telling me about our curse, about how it always passed from mother to daughter, and how the only way to eradicate it was to stop reproducing. She said that our foremothers had been greedy, trading their chances to end our line for the chance to have sons rather than no children at all. My grandmother had been one such woman. My naive young self asked my mother if that was why she chose to have me. She told me she didn't have me by choice. She told me that about a year before I was born, the despicable man found out about how the curse passed down and decided he could make a profit if he acquired more Maledictuses.

A year later, I was born. Throughout the whole pregnancy, it was a competition between my mother and the despicable man to see if I'd be a boy or a girl. He won. My mother cried for days."

"I'm so sorry, Nagini," he whispered, looking positively mortified. She buried her face in his shoulder, not wanting him to see how her eyes were tearing up. He drew her into a sort of awkward embrace and she couldn't help but smile at how typically _him_ he was being.

"He later got what he deserved. The Japanese killed him after he stood in their way when they tried to kill me and abduct my mother. The only worthy thing he'd ever done, in her opinion, besides teaching her English and some French. I don't think she ever realised but that comment allowed me to figure out, years later, that the despicable man was, in fact, the snake charmer she worked for years before I was born. The money we lived on for years after his death, the money I lived on before I started working, was his money." She shuddered in disgust. "The same money he made from parading my mother around, not that she wasn't a willing participant." He would have made money off her as well, had he been given the chance to.

Realising that she had gone off topic and remembering the real reason she'd started saying all this, she pulled away to look him in the eyes. He released his hold on her but they remained close. "Credence, the whole point I told you all this is so that you realise that finding out who your parents are doesn't necessarily ensure a happy ending."

"I know," he said, nodding as if to say that he agreed with her, before re-establishing eye contact with her. "But can you honestly say that not knowing wouldn't have bothered you for the rest of your days?" She raised an eyebrow. Most of the rest of her days would be spent as a viper, remembering nothing of her human life. He seemed to realise his mistake as he added, "I mean before... you know..."

She closed her eyes. Of course, he was right. She hated to admit but she knew he was. Knowing that her father had been a rapist and aspiring Maledictus breeder had shattered her, even though her opinion of him had already diminished considerably by that time, but wondering who he was for the rest of her human life would have been like having a lifelong itch that she could never scratch. She sighed in defeat; if anything, she would have wanted to know the truth even earlier, were it possible.

Unlike her, her poor friend hadn't even met his birth mother. He didn't even know what her name was. How could she still call herself his friend after depriving him of the chance to find out? She couldn't. She opened her eyes and shook her head. "No, I couldn't."

"Will you go with me?" he implored, holding a hand out towards her.

She knew that he was going to go anyway, with or without her, so she decided to acquiesce. After all, he had never asked her for anything before but had always done what she asked without question. She nodded, placing her hand in his, allowing him to lead her to what he so ardently hoped to find.

.:. QK .:.

Scotland was cold, much colder than anywhere she'd ever been, Arcanus stop-overs included. Shivering, she clutched the coat draped over her shoulders closer, feeling more lost and out of place than she ever had as she stood on the bridge outside the wizarding school. The name of the school evaded her, a million other thoughts occupying her mind. Once again, she stood out like a sore thumb amongst the others, the others this time round being a group of the Dark wizard's enemies. _His_ enemies. There were people amongst this group who had lost friends and family to the Dark Side. At least, in that, she wasn't an outsider.

For the first time in her life, she was not glad that she'd near enough correctly predicted something. She'd gone into the amphitheatre, prepared to either find out who _his_ parents were or lose him to the Dark wizard. She just never thought he'd abandon all reason—abandon her—and willingly join the Dark Side just to uncover his parentage. Never had she imagined him to be so selfish and never had she expected him to be so cold as to leave her, someone who had no one else in the world, in the middle of a battle without so much as a word.

Heat rushed to her face as she glanced at the person who had saved her life, recalling how she had wept like a useless fool on the ground instead of trying to escape in the face of the flames that would have surely killed her if not for his intervention. She willed herself not to cry as a mixture of embarrassment and sadness threatened to overcome her. Fear was present too but she and fear were old friends; it didn't affect her nearly as much as the other emotions did.

Staying rooted to her spot on the bridge, she peered up at the magnificent castle ahead of her and breathed in the fresh Scottish air. While _Credence_ was now the enemy, something she'd have a hard time processing, he had also freed her from the circus and opened her eyes to the bigger picture. There was more to life than earning a living, even for someone like her. At the end of the day, the two of them had chosen different sides. Like they often said at the circus when an animal got loose or a performance went wrong: the show must go on. She had to live on if only to cherish the last gift her only friend had given her.

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 **A/N: I think this is borderline AU now.**


	5. 1927–1928

**A/N: When I first uploaded this chapter, I forgot to thank readers for reviews, follows and favourites!**

 **The Gryffindor Pukwudgie - I watched the film on the 16th and I can see why some people hated it. Nagini only appeared for ten minutes and said even few words. Interesting that you point out how not very many would be interested in helping Nagini; in the film, I think she says something to Credence about how purebloods kill the likes of her. So it looks like purebloods look down on Maledictuses just like they look down on halfbloods and muggleborns.**

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Late 1927 – early 1928

Waking up in an actual bed rather than the cold hard floor, in an actual bedroom rather than a cage, was something she would never take for granted again. She groaned, turning away from the unusually sunny sky she could see outside the window and tried to go back to sleep. She had no idea what time it was.

"Sleep well?" Newt Scamander's voice called from down the hallway, ruining her chances of resuming the pleasant dream she already couldn't remember anything about.

Knowing she had to get up but really just wanting to sleep longer, she forced herself to climb out of her comfy bed and yawned inaudibly as she padded out of what had been her room for a few months now: the guest room at Newt's house. The room she'd initially refused to take for free, always having believed one should pay rent if they were to live in someone else's house, only agreeing once he told her she could be his housekeeper in exchange for the free board.

After using the bathroom, she passed Newt who was wrestling some sort of beast in the living room on her way to the kitchen. It was a welcoming sight, considering the fact that Newt had been away for a week on beast related issues. While she was a solitary being by nature, she did sometimes crave human company, and Newt sufficed as a companion despite his awkwardness. He didn't quite fill the void in her heart but then again, no one really could.

"I'm sorry I slept in again," she apologised as she joined Newt in the living room. She took a bite out of an apple she'd picked up in the kitchen, watching as Newt put his animated plant thing in his pocket.

"It's fine," he replied, not looking too bothered. "We've all had a pretty rough last few days."

Thoughts of Gellert Grindelwald's last rally briefly entered her mind and she shuddered. The man seemed to gain followers every other day. On the other hand, Albus Dumbledore still appeared to be as idle as he was when she first encountered him, seemingly preferring to hide in the shadows and delegate tasks to others such as Newt rather than openly taking a stand. His inaction often made her question if she was on the correct side. From what she could see, Dumbledore and Grindelwald were both alike when it came to using their subordinates to do things for them. She wondered if the former would go as far as using manipulation to make his associates do his bidding just like the latter was doing with his followers, especially one in particular.

She frowned as thoughts of Credence entered her mind. At least the side she was on didn't seek to enslave masses of innocents. That was one thing she was happy to aid Dumbledore in fighting against. Non-Magiques were no worse than wizards, really. All of her ringmasters had been equally cruel, the only difference between them being that one didn't possess magic. They didn't deserve to die or become slaves any more than wizards did.

She tried to think of something else, her thoughts soon turning to her magic practice. "I've been trying the spells you taught me but it's no use. I think my magic is too weak."

"Maybe it's the wand itself?" Newt suggested. "You said it was second hand?"

"I took it after my mother permanently transformed," she responded, looking down at her hands. "She either got it from her mother or... the man she worked for. She rarely used it so I never really asked."

"If it's an inherited wand it should work well. I think I should double check with Tina," he mused aloud. A sudden look of intrigue appeared on his face. "Maybe a wand stays loyal to a maledictus after her last transformation because it recognises that she's still alive."

"In that case, it's either still loyal to my mother or the longest surviving maledictus of our line."

It was impossible to know which of her foremothers were still alive. The mothers of her line always abandoned their daughters after permanently becoming vipers. Her own mother had just slithered away from their forest one day, never to return, and she had never known her grandmother or the others.

"I'll have to go back downstairs soon, I have to introduce Bunty to the new beast," Newt started, making her wonder if he considered her one of those. After all, he was housing and taking care of her just like the beasts in his suitcase. "I can help you with the spells until then."

She instantly regretted her ungrateful thoughts. Newt was really trying with her, trying to help her harness her magic and finally become useful to his—their—cause. Whether he thought of her as a beast or not, he was the first 'caretaker' to treat her like an actual person.

She nodded and shared a smile with him, going to her room to fetch her wand.

.:. QK .:.

The path to success was never easy. She was beginning to realise that. Between weekly transformations and hours of daily magic practice, she suspected that her body was starting to give out on her. She experienced constant fatigue, a tiredness in the very bones that was there when she went to bed and still there when she woke up. She hated to think that this was part of her curse—a deterrent to keep her from using magic—but she couldn't see any other possible cause.

Curled up on the sofa under a nice and warm blanket, she considered whether she should take Newt's advice and see a healer. To begin with, she wasn't even sure what a healer did, besides the obvious. She wondered if they could instantly tell what was wrong with a person by casting a spell because if not, she didn't want someone prodding her and asking her intrusive questions like the non-magical doctors did. Back when she worked as a dancer, she'd often witness the circus doctor treating her fellow performers. One time, he had asked a certain circus worker very personal questions, making even her—a mere spectator—blush.

A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts. She almost jumped out of her skin; the last time someone came looking for her, he grabbed her through a wall and tried to take her back to Circus Arcanus. Of course, back then, there had been someone to protect her, and while she was now able to protect herself to some extent, using her magic or her beast form, she was still reluctant to open the door. She wondered who was on the other side. Newt was currently away on a mission and, in any case, wouldn't have to knock on the door of his own property, and she wasn't exactly expecting any visitors.

Expecting a second knock but not hearing anything, she stood up and crept over to the door. Peering through the door viewer, she saw that there was no one there. A shiver ran up her spine as she looked down, noticing that a note had been slipped under the door.

 _Meet me at the cafe._

.:. QK .:.

"Take care of yourself, Miss Anguis," the healer said, walking her to the door of his office. "Are you sure you don't want to register with us?"

"Yes," she replied, mustering up a smile. "Thank you."

Turning away from the healer, she immediately dropped the smile and approached the lobby. Sitting down with her head in her hands, she went over the advice that the healer had given her, especially the much-emphasised part about trying not to overexert herself. It'd be a challenge when it came to training because she just wanted to be a wizard capable of fighting in battle but she knew she'd be of no use to anyone if she made herself ill. She was glad that it hadn't turned out to be anything too serious.

Going into the appointment, she'd been fearful that she'd be diagnosed with an illness that couldn't be fixed with the wave of a wand—a magical illness, maybe something to do with her condition—but was able to breathe freely after her healer had cleared her misconception. She'd been right about a couple of things, though: the healer had asked her personal questions and had used a spell to confirm his diagnosis.

While the healer had done everything to help, it'd take time for her to go back to feeling normal. She'd have to start working on it today. Raising her head, she located the clearly labelled 'Floo EXIT' and stood up. As she fastened her winter cloak, she noticed the hooded woman sat opposite her staring right at her.

The woman's eyes looked somewhat familiar but before she could even begin to place them, she felt a sharp and intrusive force trying to penetrate her mind. Memories she'd buried at the back of her mind suddenly and involuntarily appeared at the fore, her life almost flashing before her eyes, and only the woman's gasp made her once again aware of her surroundings. Tearing her gaze away from the woman, she took out her vial of Floo powder and ran towards the fireplace. She didn't look back.

Stumbling out of Newt's fireplace, she collapsed on the nearby sofa, breathing heavily. She closed her eyes and huffed, a horrible realisation washing over her: the note she'd received the other day probably hadn't been meant for Newt at all. She curled up into a ball, hoping Newt would return soon. Never before had she been so scared of being on her own.

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 **A/N: Poor Nagini struggling on her own.**


	6. 1928

**A/N: Thanks all for the reviews, follows and favourites.**

 **Blue Dragon's Rider—First time I've heard of that ship. Interesting.**

 **Crimson Cupcake—Arm candy is one hundred percent the correct term. Moreover, two of her five (?) lines were basically her saying Credence's name. Like, I get that Credence is important to her but surely there's more to her than that? I hope I'm doing her justice in this fic because there will be a fair bit of Credence in it.**

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1928

'You are hereby cordially invited to attend the wedding of Yusuf Kama, son of the late Mustafa and Laurena Kama, and Jemila Gakou, daughter of Jasmin Mane and the late Nadim Gakou, on 18th August 1928.'

She scanned the address on the card, excitement coursing through her veins as she bit back a smile. She was happy that Yusuf was finally moving on in life after wasting a good thirty years trying to fulfil an invalid Unbreakable Vow but she was even happier that she had received her first ever wedding invitation. Despite having spent over fifteen years amongst other humans, she had never actually witnessed or attended a wedding because she'd never had any friends or friendly acquaintances who would care to invite her to one. The smile on her lips faded. A certain friend of hers would never invite a cursed creature like her to his wedding now that he was amongst those who hunted down her kind.

The sound of ascending footsteps gave her pause. At least, she had one other friend.

"Are you going to go?" she asked Newt, waving the invitation at him as he appeared at the top of the basement stairs.

"Oh no," he replied swiftly, avoiding eye contact with her as always. "I don't have the time."

She narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was lying to simply get out of having to socialise for a few hours. She understood because she, herself, found social situations uncomfortable at best but she was willing to put up with it for the chance to see what constituted a wedding. Given her condition, she wasn't sure how many weddings she'd be able to see during her lifetime, so why not attend the wedding of the one who had saved her life when she was at her most vulnerable?

"Well I want to go," she said, following him into the living room. "How would I go? Portkey?"

"You'll have to arrange one, yes," he answered, picking one of his small Nifflers up from the coffee table. She blinked. She didn't even exist in the eyes of the MoM, save for the few Aurors who had survived Grindelwald's first rally. She didn't want to risk being accused of illegally staying in England, something that'd be only too easy when one took her appearance and accent into consideration.

"Won't I need some proof of identification?" she implored, making him look up at her from the Niffler wriggling around in his hands.

"What?" He sounded confused.

"To get permission for the Portkey," she clarified, wondering if she'd said something wrong. "Won't the Ministry want to verify who I am?"

"Oh, I didn't think of that," he stated, "I always have my Ministry identification visible on my person because I work at the Ministry."

"Great," she muttered, dropping down into an armchair. She sighed. What had she been thinking? Her mother had told her that marriage wasn't for the likes of their kind. She had assumed that meant her kind didn't marry but it seemed like being mere guests at a wedding was also out of the question.

"I'll ask my brother," he told her, and she glanced at him to see a kind smile on his face. "It's not his department but he might know."

"Thank you, Newt," she said quietly, looking down at her hands and trying not to get her hopes up. Right now, getting out of Britain, let alone going to France, seemed unlikely.

.:. QK .:.

Standing up and brushing away the dust from her clothes, she avoided the eyes of the wizards and witches who walked past her on their way to the entrance of what she assumed was the wedding venue. The Portkey Newt had arranged for her had practically dropped her a few feet away from the hall, almost on top of the other arriving guests. As she followed suit and made her way to the door, her eyes focused in on the unusual attire of the three ladies directly in front of her. Upon entering the hall, she could see that she was the odd one out; the majority of the female guests were clad in sleeveless dresses that reached the midcalf whereas she was wearing ankle length red-maroon dress robes.

Unsure of what she was supposed to do, she located a nearby table and sat down. She watched as guests sauntered through the hall, catching up with those she presumed to be their acquaintances and family members. Some of these were purebloods, she was sure, and she tried not to let her gaze linger upon them too long. While she stood out for obvious reasons, she didn't think she quite looked like a Maledictus and could only hope that none of the guests here had seen her perform before. A Korean face would be easy to remember in a country full of the French.

Yusuf was nowhere to be seen, and she couldn't spot any other familiar faces.

'Please stand for the bride,' a voice echoed around the hall, startling her a little.

Standing up, she turned towards the open doors and saw a flock of women and girls, all wearing identical lilac dresses, huddled around an elegant woman who looked about a few years older than herself. She noted that the bride was dressed more like her in terms of coverage, wearing cream floor length silk dress robes as well as a sort of beaded headdress that covered her head like a cap but extended all the way down to the floor, and was holding a massive assortment of white flowers. The woman herself was beautiful in a way that reminded her of Leta Lestrange, the bridegroom's late sister, a young woman who, according to Newt, should have been married two months ago. She sighed inwardly, watching the bride and her entourage make their way to the stage. A lot of things _should_ have been but were not, thanks to one Gellert Grindelwald.

At least Grindelwald couldn't ruin things for anyone in France now. He was far too busy recruiting Italian wizards.

.:. QK .:.

 _Lifelong companionship. Mutual understanding. Trust. Love._

The officiator's words were sobering, to say the least. Before the wedding, the only thing she knew of marriage was what her mother had told her—marriage was not for Maledictuses. She could see now that her mother had been right, of course. Lifelong companionship alone was impossible when someone like her became a snake by the age of forty. Even if someone like her married young, they'd only have about twenty years with their husband and any children they might have together. If she were to have a child now, she'd be gone by the time the child turned eleven. It was yet another cruel consequence of her curse.

The rest—mutual understanding, trust, and love—were unthinkable. Grindelwald had ensured that.

"Beautiful ceremony," the person sitting next to her, Tina Goldstein, whispered. Earlier, Yusuf had invited them both up to a table closer to the stage and so here they were.

"Yes," she agreed, her voice sounding hoarse even to her own ears. "Beautiful."

If Tina noticed her tone of voice, she didn't say anything. "You know, we've never really spoken properly. You stayed in your room the whole time when I visited Newt a few months ago."

"I was indisposed," she said simply, wanting to forget that horrible time. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Oh," Tina let out as if she'd just realised something. "What's it like living with Newt?"

"Chaotic," she replied, cracking a smile as she remembered the last beast that got loose under Bunty's watch. "There's always some sort of beast causing a ruckus. His future wife is going to have be very... understanding."

Tina smiled somewhat shyly and suddenly became very interested in her hands. She wondered why she hadn't noticed this before, especially since she lived with Newt. Admittedly, Newt was shy and probably kept such things to himself but she couldn't believe she hadn't picked up on this. "He's quite a good teacher, though. He's taught me the spells I was interested in. He thinks I should consider learning how to Apparate."

Tina looked up from her hands, the shy smile replaced by an understanding look. "You don't?"

"I'm not great with magic," she confessed, recalling how much time and effort it took just to learn some of the spells. "I don't have the confidence to Apparate somewhere fully intact."

"My sister thought the same thing before she started taking her Apparition lessons," Tina stated, her eyes conveying a sort of sadness she had seen many times when she looked in a mirror. "She wasn't the most powerful witch either, not with spells anyway. I told her she could do anything if she just tried. She did. If she could do it, I believe you can too."

"Thank you for your kind words," she said softly, trying to remember if she'd ever seen Tina's sister. "Where's your sister now?"

"She's probably in Italy."

She didn't ask what Tina's sister was doing in Italy. She didn't have to. She wasn't the only one Grindelwald had robbed of a loved one. "We should probably go and congratulate the new couple."

Looking over at Yusuf and his new bride on the stage, she smiled and nodded. There was no happy ending in sight for someone like her but she'd be damned if actual humans like Yusuf and Tina didn't get theirs. She hoped Tina's sister would return one day, even if a certain other never did.

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 **A/N: I guess I just really wanted Nagini to attend a wedding. It's basically a headcanon of mine that Nagini was so removed from other people that she never got invited to one. Nagini's behaviour at the wedding is basically just my behaviour at every wedding I go to, even when I'm a bridesmaid. Lol, I'm such an introvert.**


	7. Late 1928

**A/N: Thanks for follows and favourites.**

* * *

Late 1928

Her gaze roved around the table in the centre of the room as she made an entrance, the few she recognised nodding at her in acknowledgement. Sitting down in the closest empty seat, she smiled at Newt who was a few seats away in between a vacant seat and a man she vaguely recalled as his brother Theseus. Dumbledore, sitting at the head of the table, waited for a few others who had arrived after her, including Tina, to sit down before addressing everyone and beginning to talk about recent events related to or involving Grindelwald. Since it was her first meeting, she hung off his every word even though most of what he said was already known to her.

"Grindelwald seems to have had little luck in Madrid," Dumbledore spoke calmly. "He has returned to France but has not been seen entering his former headquarters. Curious, isn't it, given the recent news?"

She sat back, confused, as the others in the room murmured in agreement. Maybe it was because she was new to this but she had no idea what anyone was talking about, not until a charmed piece of paper floated towards her and landed right in front of her. It was a French newspaper clipping but she didn't have to understand French (though she did) to understand why Dumbledore wanted her to see it or why he even invited her to the meeting in the first place. The photo of a man she hadn't seen in a year, captioned Corvus Lestrange V, said it all.

"He's definitely not who he says he is," Theseus vehemently protested. "Leta said her brother died. This fraudster is making a mockery of a dead woman's twenty-six years of pain."

She winced. She tried not to think of Credence too often but when she was forced to face how he had hurt and continued to hurt others, she felt like she was complicit in his crimes just by reminiscing fondly of him from time to time.

"Oh, I know he isn't Leta's brother, Theseus," Dumbledore appeased, sounding as if he knew exactly who Credence was. "I, myself, would like to find out why he's doing this."

"How?" Newt and Tina asked at the same time, the former proceeding to give the latter a shy smile. The pair already behaved like such a couple that she wondered why they weren't already married by now.

"Barebone is infinitely powerful," an American man sat opposite her interjected in a grave voice. "Hunting him down again would be an awful mistake."

Dumbledore's eyes settled on the man, a look of consideration upon his otherwise serene face, before redirecting his gaze to meet hers without even turning his head. She immediately looked down, as if doing so would shield her from his view.

"Miss Anguis," he started, making her look over at him in surprise. Anguis was a fake name she had only used a couple of times. How he knew of it was beyond her. "If I recall correctly, you were once close to Mr Barebone, weren't you?"

Everyone in the room shifted, pointedly staring at her, and a lump caught in her throat. While she had known that Dumbledore was going to task her with something as soon as she saw the photo of Credence, it finally became clear to her why exactly he had chosen to summon her to this meeting rather than privately approach her. He did not intend for her to even have the chance of saying no.

"I knew I recognised her," someone said from the other end of the table, effectively putting a nail in the coffin.

Mustering up some confidence, she cleared her throat and spoke up. "I'm not sure I would say close, Professor."

"Albus, please," Dumbledore offered kindly. "I understand that you have some painful memories so if you don't want to elaborate, you don't have to."

She tried not to give him a dirty look. She was sure he knew that he had cornered her into a difficult situation. Knowing what some people back at Arcanus had whispered to the ringmaster about her and Credence when they thought she wasn't listening, she knew she had to elaborate otherwise the people here would make the same assumptions. She didn't want or need the pity that she'd undoubtedly receive at not only being a Maledictus but a Maledictus who was abandoned by her lover.

"I mean, we were friends but we only knew each other for a few months," she explained, heat rushing to her face. "It wasn't long enough for us to grow close." She was lying, of course, and Dumbledore could probably see right through her but she hoped that the others couldn't. She didn't have the nerve to scan the room and find out.

"A few months is enough for some, believe me," Dumbledore commented in a strangely thick voice. If she hadn't glanced at him, she would've thought he was crying. Instead, his eyes were dry and he appeared perfectly calm, as always. "Would you be willing to assist me? All you have to do is meet Credence."

Opening her mouth to respond in the negative, she closed it again and considered his request. This was not the way she'd originally intended to help in the fight against Grindelwald but she would have to take what she got seeing as she wasn't the best at combatant magic. There was a chance she'd be competent in fighting when the next battle took place but, for now, she was probably more helpful as Dumbledore's agent.

"Though Grindelwald is likely watching Mr Barebone's every move, I do not believe he is with him at all times even if he has made the Lestrange residence his new headquarters. Mr Barebone should be at the liberty to receive guests."

"What exactly do you want me to do? Or say?" she asked, feeling as if she should already know.

"Whatever you feel like you must." She noticed Newt shaking his head despite the amused smile on his face. Dumbledore's cryptic answer didn't exactly fill her with confidence but somehow, she gathered that this was as forthcoming as he would get.

"When do you want me to go?"

"The fourteenth of February should do nicely," Dumbledore said, his eyes practically twinkling. "Don't you agree, Miss Anguis?"

She thought to correct him but with what? Nagini was her stage name and while it was what her few friends called her, giving Albus Dumbledore a fake name did not feel right.

"I—yes," she responded, not knowing what to make of his sudden romantic mood.

The rest of the meeting passed by in a blur as she was no longer interested in listening to Dumbledore talk, far more pressing matters on her mind. Credence had left her behind. What if he just wasn't interested in seeing her again?

.:. QK .:.

"Mrs Scamander!"

Pegging Newt's shirt to the washing line, she turned in the direction of the voice to see her middle-aged neighbour peering at her from over the fence that divided the two gardens. As far as she knew, the woman was a new tenant and had not formally been introduced to Newt yet. She was baffled that the woman knew Newt's last name.

"I'm not Mrs Scamander," she corrected not unkindly, picking the empty bucket up from the ground. "I'm Mr Scamander's housekeeper."

"Ooh, oh dear," the woman said, appearing to be embarrassed. "I was wondering whether Mr Scamander would like to come round for tea this evening. You're welcome too, of course."

"I've got a lot of work to do so I won't be free this evening but I'll pass the message on to him," she stated, walking towards the back door as the woman called out a 'thank you' from behind her.

After putting the bucket away in the utility, she entered the living room and was surprised to find Newt sitting in the armchair near the fireplace, having expected him to be at work or in his basement. He seemed to be in deep thought so she decided not to disturb him and quietly sat down on the sofa across from him, grabbing the copy of the Daily Prophet that was on the coffee table in between the two of them.

 _Three Grindelwald fanatics arrested for attacking 'violent' Aurors._

She sighed inaudibly at the headline. Grindelwald hadn't even called a rally in Britain yet but tensions between Aurors and terrorist sympathisers were already running so high.

"Nagini?"

She made a noise of acknowledgement as her eyes sifting through the article, searching for a mention of the name she always kept an eye out for whenever an article about Grindelwald popped up. However, the only names she found were those of the Aurors who had been attacked as well as that of Theseus preceding an official statement of his as Head Auror.

"I've asked Tina to marry me."

This time she looked up at Newt, folding the newspaper and putting it down on her lap. She couldn't say she was surprised. Newt and Tina's affection for each other was amusingly obvious to everyone around them; they had even been making eyes at each other during Dumbledore's meeting, something she had found both inappropriate and heartwarming. She didn't even bother asking what Tina's response was—there was only one answer Tina was ever going to give Newt. It looked like the neighbour would get to greet the real Mrs Scamander soon enough.

"When are you planning to marry?" she questioned, hoping Grindelwald wouldn't invade England or New York any time soon. Newt and Tina deserved happiness more than anyone she knew.

"Well, that all depends," Newt began, appearing to be a little uncomfortable. "Tina doesn't want to get married until we get Queenie back. She feels responsible for whatever happened and doesn't think she deserves to settle down until Queenie and Jacob do."

Jacob was Newt's American Non-Magique friend, that much she knew. Queenie... Queenie had to be Tina's sister, the blonde woman who had joined Grindelwald after screaming at someone she now knew had been Jacob. She would've never guessed that Queenie and Jacob were a couple or that Queenie and Tina were even related let alone sisters. Jacob and Queenie seemed like an odd pairing whereas Tina and Queenie looked nothing alike. The world worked in strange ways, very strange ways indeed.

"I see," she said, remembering Dumbledore's request to her. If Grindelwald was indeed staying at Lestrange Manor, there was a high possibility that Queenie was as well given that she was part of his inner circle. "When I go to France, I'll seek her out. I'm not sure what good it'll do but I'll try to get through to her."

"You don't have to do that," Newt interjected quickly, an alarmed expression on his face. "What you've been asked to do is dangerous as it is."

She shook her head. "I can do at least that much for you, Newt. You and Tina are some of the few wizards who have been kind to me. I can't promise that I'll be able to talk Queenie into leaving Grindelwald but I will remind her that she has people here who care for her."

"Thank you."

Giving him a weak smile, she stood up and made her way to the kitchen. She still had about two months left until her 'mission' to France. She didn't know what scared her more: facing Credence again or properly facing Grindelwald.

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 **A/N: I did write the Dumbledore part up before watching CoG. Did I make him too manipulative like HP era Dumbledore?**


	8. 1929

**A/N: I went too description heavy on this one.**

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Early 1929

The moment she reached her destination, her jaw almost dropped as she took in the sight before her. Never before had she seen such a large estate – Hogwarts, as a school, simply did not count – with acres of farmland peppered sparsely with small cottages stretching as far as the eye could see, the wide stone path winding past the wrought iron gate before her and disappearing around the corner, the walls enclosing the estate obstructing her view of what the path led to.

Shaking her head, she snapped herself out of her dazed fancy and stared at the wretched gate that was blocking her way. Dumbledore hadn't bothered to tell her how to actually get into the manor but had warned her about the use of wards around private homes: those that didn't allow apparition and those that physically barred visitors from entering. She'd never faced either of these sorts of wards before and was anxious to find out which type had been used on this manor if not both. She wondered if Dark wizards employed the use of other more dangerous wards in addition to the usual ones in order to cause extra harm to their enemies.

Unable to legally Apparate, she had no other choice but to actually touch the gate and open it. Reaching for the latch, she braced herself for the inevitable reaction she'd get from the wards. There was none. She blinked, her hand tightening around the latch handle. Grindelwald was many things but he definitely wasn't stupid. She hoped the absence of physical wards meant that there were apparition wards on the manor, for the alternative—no wards at all—was a terrifying prospect. The only explanation for a lack of security was that Grindelwald must have known she, or another one of Dumbledore's associates, was going to come here today.

A loud pop drew her attention and she looked down to see an elf peering up at her. She let go of the handle, feeling like she'd been caught committing a crime. There was no turning back now that she'd been seen. She wouldn't get an opportunity like this again, trap or not.

"Welcome to Lestrange Manor, mademoiselle," the elf greeted meekly, bowing her head and opening the gate without even touching it. "Dot will show you inside."

She didn't know what to say. She supposed this was the Lestrange family's house-elf. Their slave. Her stomach churned. She knew better than anyone what it was like to be enslaved, having unwittingly walked into a form of slavery when she joined the Circus Arcanus. It was disappointing that Credence, having seen the ringmaster's treatment of the Arcanus' house-elf, approved of keeping them.

As she followed Dot up the incredibly long pathway which curved off to the right, an impressive manor house came into view about a hundred yards ahead. Her eyes widened at the size of the building for it looked as huge as Hogwarts castle but was probably inhabited by only a few people. The exterior of the house could only be described as a combination of beauty and gloom, rather fitting considering who its master was. She sighed, wondering if this was what Credence had sold his integrity for: a fake identity and illegal occupation of a drowned child's manor. Taking another look at her surroundings, she had to admit that it almost worth it.

.:. QK .:.

Sipping from her cup of tea, she surveyed the drawing room, her eyes particularly drawn to the portrait of a red-haired woman who was staring back at her with a malicious gleam in her eyes. Feeling uncomfortable, she warily turned her head away from the portrait and settled her gaze upon one of the windows. She almost jumped when she heard a pop similar to the one she'd heard earlier followed by hushed whispering and shuffling. She listened carefully but while she could hear the voices of Dot and a third party, she couldn't discern what was being said.

The voices suddenly stopped, the drawing room door swinging open only seconds later. She didn't turn, keeping her back to the door.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, mademoiselle," came the soft voice, her accent clearly American. "Corvus is currently away on business but I would be happy to help."

 _Corvus._ Corvus was away on _Valentine's Day_.

She felt an inexplicable stab of irritation, setting her cup of tea down on the coffee table and deciding to give the woman a piece of her mind. She finally turned around, the words practically dancing on the tip of her tongue only to quickly disperse when she actually saw her hostess. The tall blonde was leaning against the door, her widened eyes a striking shade of green, the same eyes she had seen in the hospital all those years ago, belonging to the same woman she vaguely remembered walking away from Jacob after Credence had walked away from her. Queenie Goldstein, Tina's estranged sister.

"Mademoiselle, your tea," Dot interrupted as she entered the room, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air.

"Thank you, honey," the blonde spoke, taking the cup of tea from Dot. The blonde took a seat near her by the fireplace as the house-elf left the room, an obviously forced smile on her face. "My name is Queenie. How can I help you?"

"Where's Grindelwald?" she asked bluntly, getting straight to the point. According to Dumbledore, this manor house was Grindelwald's new headquarters but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. She hardly thought he had a paramour to celebrate Valentine's Day with.

"Why, he's not here," Queenie responded airily before casually taking a sip of her tea. Her nonchalance was annoying, to say the least. "Why would he be? This isn't his home."

Home was a subjective word. Queenie must have known that well. From experience, she knew that one could live somewhere for a number of years and not feel at home but could also spend a few days elsewhere and feel like it was home. What was it that people said? Home is where the heart is. The forest had been her home. The four circuses hadn't been her home. The abandoned building she and Credence had stayed in after running away from the circus had felt like home. The house she was staying in now, though a friend's home, wasn't her home. This manor... this manor was neither her home, nor Credence's, nor Grindelwald's.

"Is it your home?" she implored, staring Queenie right in the eyes as if daring her to answer. She winced, a pinching sensation pulsing through her mind.

"It's not like that between Corvus and I," Queenie said firmly, just about retaining that false smile of hers.

Recalling the last time the Legilimens ravaged her mind, she averted her gaze and picked her cup of tea up again. "I never said that."

"You thought it."

She sat back, taking a long sip. She hadn't even realised she'd thought that. It was unnerving that Queenie knew what she was thinking before she did.

This was the right time to carry out Newt's tentative request. "No, I suppose your home is somewhere far, far from here." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Queenie's fake smile falter for a second. "Your sister, your lover, your brother in law"—the blonde gasped—"they're all waiting for you back _home_."

"Tina and Newt got married?" Queenie questioned, her voice full of wonder.

"Why do you care?" she countered, taking a quick glance at her adversary. "You left them. You abandoned the people who loved you for a man who's just using you."

This seemed to strike a nerve in Queenie. "Sometimes, the people we love hold us back!" she retorted, her face flushed and her smile long gone. She leaned forward, forcing eye contact between the two of them. "That's exactly why _he_ left you."

Heat rushed to her face and rage boiled through her as the cup in her hands exploded, the lukewarm tea spilling all over her dress. She immediately stood up, incensed, reaching for her wand as Queenie called out for Dot.

She performed Tergeo on her dress as Dot appeared a second later and wordlessly repaired the broken cup. Satisfied, she turned to Queenie and asked, "Where is he then? I'd like to hear him tell me what you said himself."

"I already told you; he's away on business," Queenie replied hastily. She didn't have to be a Legilimens to tell that Queenie wasn't entirely being truthful.

Lestrange Manor was massive. She gathered that it was quite possible for two people to be in the building at the same time and not notice the other's presence; the house was perfect for one occupant, especially a wizard, to avoid and hide from another.

"I'll wait for him," she announced as both Dot and Queenie stared at her.

Exchanging a look with Dot, Queenie Disapparated without another word.

.:. QK .:.

Her willpower was not something that was easily broken. If it were, she would have never survived the harsh reality of her life after her mother died. She would have never survived the next person she loved leaving her just like her mother had. She would not have survived what she went through in the months after what happened in the Lestrange Mausoleum. She would have taken her own life, just like one of her weary and disillusioned ancestors had hundreds of years ago.

Days after arriving at Lestrange Manor, she had yet to see Corvus, Grindelwald, or anyone besides Dot. She spent most of her time in the expansive library, browsing the bookshelves and creating a sort of inventory of the books in her head. To her horror, a good portion of the books were about the Dark Arts, containing not only evil and destructive spells she'd never heard of but also information about potions and artefacts intended solely for nefarious purposes. The thought of Credence—Corvus—surrounding himself with these books sent a shiver up her spine.

All of her meals were spent alone; just her sitting at the head of the empty and long dining table as Dot served her food she never had to ask for. It reminded her of the lonely years in various circuses where no one cared to sit with her because they were either jealous of her or thought she was an even bigger freak than they were. Even at the non-wizarding circus, she was treated like an outcast because of (she assumed) her ethnic background.

Yet she knew there was someone else besides Dot in the house with her. At night, she would hear footsteps too heavy to be that of an elf's in the hallway, floorboards creaking under the person's feet as he roamed around the first floor of the manor house. Despite her curiosity, she never explored the first floor for she considered it rude to barge into other people's bedrooms, especially in someone else's house. Like a dutiful guest, she went straight to her bedroom—the guest room she'd been allocated to—in the evening and straight downstairs in the morning.

Tonight was different, though. Tonight, she had to transform to relieve the telltale itching that afflicted her when she went a certain number of days without transforming. The interval between 'mandatory' transformations was now just five days, a grim reminder that her time as a human was running out.

Perched on the edge of her bed, she sighed and looked out of the window. At least she had relatively private grounds to roam around as a viper. It'd been difficult in Newt's garden, in the middle of a muggle neighbourhood. She closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the serpent inside her as she felt her bones shift and rearrange themselves...

The next morning, she woke up in a bed that wasn't hers. She sat up, still half asleep, groaning at the all too familiar ache in her bones.

"Go back to sleep," a voice she hadn't heard in a while spoke. "You need the rest."

His words had the opposite effect, making her fully open her eyes and take in his appearance.

"Credence," she whispered.

* * *

 **A/N: Ehh, I'm not really happy about this chapter.**


	9. Mid 1929

Mid 1929

"You're addicted to those things."

She peered up from her plate of croissants to see Corvus standing next to her with an amused expression on his face. "They're so buttery!" she exclaimed, patting the chair next to her own.

He joined her at the outdoor table, looking up at the pole tent above their heads. "You don't think it's a little early?"

"I just wanted it to feel like summer," she said with a shrug, breaking her third croissant in half. "It's been so cold this year."

"They said February the fourteenth this year was the coldest winter day ever recorded in Gelles," he mused, taking half of her croissant from her. She smiled, remembering that that Valentine's Day had been the day she first set foot in Lestrange Manor.

"Those poor couples," she commented, imagining multiple pairs of lovers freezing outside in the cold. She snuck a glance at Corvus, still not sure whether he had actually been in the house that day. She wondered if he had been out with some girl. "Where were you that day?"

He raised an eyebrow at her as he finished his half croissant. "Why?"

"No reason," she quickly replied, biting her lip. She reached out for the last croissant but he got there first, swiping it off the plate and taking a large bite out of it. She pouted, swatting him on the arm but letting him keep the croissant.

It felt good, sitting out here with him in the comfortable spring breeze. It reminded her of the times they huddled together in the circus, often in companionable silence, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to the whispers of the others until the ringmaster stomped over to them and either dragged her away or told him to go and attend to some sort of task. She inched closer to him, looping her hand into the crook of his arm. There was no ringmaster here to keep them apart from each other. He turned to her and the pair of them shared a smile. This was the happiest she had ever seen him.

When she had first arrived at the manor, he had actively avoided her until the night—rather early morning—he carried her unconscious form to bed after discovering her lying outside. After that, he had stopped pretending not to be around but kept his distance from her until one day when he told her of his guilt over abandoning her. It had taken time for her to fully forgive him but she soon understood that he had never meant to leave her for dead; he simply hadn't thought that Grindelwald would try to kill people with his blue fire. It hadn't taken too long for them to grow close again after that.

"I was at home that day," he spoke, placing his hand on top of the one curled around his arm. She looked up at him, relieved. "Where else would I be?"

She said nothing, leaning her head on his shoulder.

.:. QK .:.

She inspected herself in her floor length mirror, admiring Corvus' newest gift to her: a smart set of dress robes in dark green and a matching fascinator. She wasn't sure why he had felt the need to buy her clothes at all when she already had the sets of robes she'd asked Dot to collect from Newt's place when she first moved into the manor but the seamstress he'd hired for her had done a good job. She had never been one to keep up with the latest fashion trends but she did like to dress up, even when she'd lived in the forest.

"Mademoiselle!"

"Entre!" she called, smiling at her reflection. She looked rather pretty for someone who had transformed into a snake mere hours ago.

"Monsieur Grindelwald est là," Dot said from behind her.

She whirled around to face the house-elf, a sense of dread filling her. She'd been living at Lestrange Manor for a few months now and while she had briefly met some of Grindelwald's inner circle such as Vinda Rosier and Abernathy, she had never come face to face with the Dark wizard himself. "Tu lui as dit que Monsieur Lestrange n'est pas là?"

Dot twiddled her thumbs awkwardly before nodding. "Monsieur Grindelwald a dit à Dot qu'il veut parler à Madame Lestrange, pas à Monsieur Lestrange."

"Quoi? Moi?" she asked hoarsely. There was no Madame Lestrange. She understood that she was the closest there was to a lady of the house but she never thought she'd have to behave like one and receive guests on Corvus' behalf. The very notion terrified her, especially given who her current guest was.

"Oui, mademoiselle."

She took a deep breath, trying to ease her buzzing nerves. "Je comprends. Escorte-lui à la Grande Salle."

As soon as Dot was out of sight, she stumbled towards her bed and gripped the ornate bedpost, releasing a shaky breath as she steadied herself. This wasn't a case of Grindelwald dropping by and asking for her because Corvus just happened to absent. This was a premeditated act. Corvus was currently away running errands for Grindelwald himself, errands Corvus had told her were usually carried out by the others; his main job for Grindelwald being to train until he was ready for some great task. She hadn't been scared of the Dark wizard the previous times she'd seen him because Credence had been there, other people had been there, but this time it would be just the two of them alone together.

After taking a moment to compose herself, she left her room and walked across the gallery which led to the stairs and overlooked the Great Hall. The portraits on the wall threw her suspicious glares and whispered about her with one another but she paid them no attention as she peered down into the Great Hall and spotted someone sitting on one of the sofas. She took her time going down the stairs and saw Grindelwald stand up, hands folded, when she reached the last few steps.

"Bonjour, Madame...?" he trailed off, a humble expression plastered on his face as she approached him.

"Mademoiselle," she corrected, gesturing for him to sit down as she sat in the armchair opposite him.

"Mademoiselle," he repeated, half of his mouth curling up as he took a seat. "You look radiant."

Grindelwald was dressed rather elegantly, donning an expensive looking black waistcoat and cape. She wondered if he employed the same seamstresses as Corvus. Just how did he afford his expensive lifestyle? Corvus used his inheritance but she wasn't aware of Grindelwald being from a rich family. However he acquired his money, it was unlikely to be through any legal means.

"Thank you. Now, to what pleasure do I owe this visit?"

.:. QK .:.

"How long do you plan to stay here?" Grindelwald asked lightly.

She cleared her throat, hoping her voice wouldn't come across as shaky. "As long as Corvus wants me to."

"You are aware that Corvus is training to complete a task that is imperative to my cause?" he questioned, sipping the tea Dot had brought him. "Has he told you what the task is?"

She would've liked to confidently answer in the positive but the truth was that Corvus simply hadn't told her. He had told her everything else about Grindelwald's cause from the role of the rest of the inner circle to how Grindelwald planned to build more support but he rarely spoke about his own all-important role save for a few mentions of how he was faring with training. "I can't say that he has."

"He truly is loyal to me," the Dark wizard affirmed, giving her pause. It almost sounded as if he was reassuring himself. "What about you?"

"What about me, monsieur?" She couldn't see where this conversation was going.

"Are you loyal to me?"

She was surprised by the question. Grindelwald had to be a lunatic. He had seen her stand her ground after Credence walked into the fire. She would've joined Credence if she believed in Grindelwald's barbaric cause. "I believe you already know the answer to that."

He smirked in response, confusing her. "Mademoiselle," he crooned, leaning forward. She tried not to stare at his odd eye, glad that there was a fair amount of space in between their seats. "I only want what you want." She blinked, remaining silent. "A world where people like you and I can be free."

She scoffed at that, narrowing her eyes at him. "You and I are not the same," she pointed out, disgusted that he would imply such a thing. Moral stances aside, she was sure that his Legilimens had told her she wasn't a normal witch. "What do you know of what I want?"

"I, too, am cursed, mademoiselle," he confessed, almost sincerely. "As a seer, I am burdened with knowledge—terrible knowledge—I did not ask for. I understand what it is to be an outcast like you... like Corvus. I believe I can help you like I am helping Corvus... if you would only allow me to."

He reeked of persuasion. She could understand his appeal. If she hadn't known he was a Dark wizard beforehand, she would've been tempted to join him right now. "There is no cure for what ails me. I know it well. This curse has been in my matrilineal line for at least thirty generations. It will end with me."

"You intend to cut off this pure-blood line?"

Her mother had clearly intended for her to be the last of her line. "How are you so sure that I am a pure-blood? Pure-bloods like your supporters kill creatures like me."

"Corvus is the last of his pure-blood line," Grindelwald said smoothly. She refrained from rolling her eyes. Who was he trying to fool? They both knew that the real Corvus was long dead. "I know a way you can preserve your soul. You would ultimately end up in a new body but you would be free of your curse. You could start a family. My supporters would not stand in your way."

Grindelwald was a cruel man. He knew how to dangle one's dreams right in front of them when he knew they couldn't fulfil them. No doubt he had done the same to Corvus. She wondered what lies he had told him. "I can't believe in a cause that supports the enslavement and annihilation of the Non-Magique."

"Your eyes are not open," Grindelwald said, his voice full of apparent remorse. "When we succeed, you will see that it was all for the greater good."

Just for a second, she considered his revelation of there being a way to overcome her curse. She shook her head. Grindelwald was a Dark wizard; his method of 'curing' her would definitely involve the Dark Arts. "I'm not interested in your dark magic or your cause."

"You are making a mistake," he warned, his face betraying no emotion. "You will rue the day you made the wrong choice."

"I will succumb to my curse too soon to see that day!" she retorted, rising to her feet. "I think it is time you leave."

Surprisingly, Grindelwald stood up. "Corvus is integral to the cause. I cannot have someone like you corrupting him." She almost snorted at his audacity. "Leave him and go back to Dumbledore. You don't belong here."

Dumbledore had been the one to give her the idea of staying with Corvus in the first place. Whatever you must, he had said at the meeting all those months ago. The meaning had not been lost on her. By staying at Corvus' side, she was slowly but surely stabilising him. She had already seen the change in him, primarily the effect his Obscurus had on him.

"You know, I think I'll stay right here, Monsieur Grindelwald," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. He couldn't force her to leave nor could he kill her. Corvus would ask questions. Judging from the indignance on his face, he was well aware of the fact. "You may leave now."

Grindelwald Disapparated. She immediately dropped back into the armchair, catching her breath. She had impulsively said a lot of things to the darkest wizard of all time. Would he punish her for it? Only time would tell...


	10. Late 1929

**A/N: Thanks to one reader for the review and another for a follow and a favourite.**

* * *

Late 1929

She dove to the ground, just about dodging the spell as it flew past her ear.

"Come on, Corvus!" she called as she rose to her feet, privately mourning the fact that her dress had mud on it now. She needed an outdoor training dress. "You're not even trying!"

Corvus tightened his grip on the wand Grindelwald had given him, readjusting his aim to her new position. " _Stupefy_!"

" _Protego_!" she shouted, turning away as she expected the spell to fail. To her pleasant surprise, Corvus' charm bounced off the Shield in front on her. She nodded at him, silently giving him the go-ahead to throw another one at her.

" _Locomotor Mortis_!" he yelled, catching her off guard. She managed to block it in due time but lost her footing for a moment, falling victim to his next spell.

She burst into laughter, keeling over and clutching her sides. "Corvus!" she shrieked, the tickling sensation getting the best of her. "Re—really? The Tic—tickling Charm?" she asked between laughs.

" _Finite Incantatem_ ," Corvus said, grinning as he walked towards her in the middle of the manor's vast grounds. "I had to use it on somebody. You _are_ my only friend, after all."

 _Only_ friend. She knew that Corvus was treated a little differently from the rest of Grindelwald's inner circle but she didn't realise he was so isolated from them. It did make sense, though. The rest of the acolytes lived with Grindelwald in his castle and presumably went to every one of his rallies and other events but Corvus was only ever invited to Christmas Dinner. If it weren't for Corvus having been invited to last year's Christmas Dinner, she would've thought Grindelwald was purposely keeping him away from her on their first proper Christmas together.

"Wish I could say the same about you," she quipped, throwing a random jinx at him. He effortlessly blocked it, reminding her that he was a much more powerful duellist than she was. She knew that he always went easy on her so as not to hurt her but he was doing more harm than good; she likely wouldn't last five minutes against an actual enemy.

But then, who was her enemy? Grindelwald's side saw her as an acolyte's guest, perhaps even a spy, whereas Dumbledore's side probably saw her as a defector. Either side could attack her in a battle. Seeing as Corvus still believed in Grindelwald's cause and was unlikely to turn against him despite all of her efforts to convince him otherwise, she knew that the right thing to do would be to go back to Newt, to Dumbledore, and reaffirm her loyalty to the correct side. However, looking at Corvus now as he circled her and teased her about how many Christmas presents she was going to get, she didn't have the strength to leave him. She had already lost one person she loved to a cruel curse. She couldn't willingly walk away from another.

She grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks, and looked at the multitude of trees that lined the manor grounds. "We need a Christmas tree."

.:. QK .:.

In order to be able to sit close to Corvus, she had instructed Dot to magically shorten the typically long pure-blood-esque dining table and accordingly place the various dishes on the table. She was pleased with the result. This was the first meal she had arranged for Corvus and though she had not participated in any of the actual cooking, she was anxious about what he would think of it, especially since it was their first Christmas meal together. As Corvus took his seat and surveyed the dishes in front of him, she dismissed Dot and carefully uncorked the bottle of wine in the centre of the table.

"Champagne?" she asked, happily noting that he had bought the drink she asked for.

He looked up at her, his eyes bright. "Oui, s'il vous plaît." She smiled at his response, pouring him a glass and then doing the same for herself. "Is that correct?"

"I'd say te instead of vous," she answered, taking her seat opposite him. She had learnt French mostly from her mother but had picked the accent up listening to actual French people speaking. "Vous is formal, remember?"

"I don't sound French at all, do I?" he questioned, sipping his wine. "I've got to start interacting with the Ministry officials soon."

"Everyone in France knows you were raised in the US, Corvus," she replied, realising that Grindelwald was using Corvus to infiltrate the Ministry. She wondered why he couldn't send one of his other acolytes, seeing as how easily they broke into the Ministry the last time to steal the Lestrange family records. "Is this the grand task you've been training for?"

He gave her a blank look. She muttered an apology as a caviar on blini appeared on her plate. She took a quick look at all of the food, wondering if she had gone over the top; the table was outfitted with plates of caviar or foie gras on toast, wine poached oysters and sauteed scallops, and those were only the starters. A lobster dish was the main meal and there was still the Yule log Dot was supposed to bring in later.

"It isn't," Corvus suddenly said, and it took her a moment to realise he was responding to her question. "It's not that task. I don't think I'm ready yet."

She nodded, taking a bite out of her caviar toast. "Will you ever tell me what it is?"

Corvus speared the oyster on his plate with a fork, an expression she knew all too well appearing on his face. It worried her. It was the same expression he'd donned before ditching her for Grindelwald, the same look he sometimes wore before leaving the house to go and attend to Grindelwald. He ate the oyster as a scallop appeared on each of their plates. "You'll find out soon enough," he finally replied, sticking his fork into his scallop. His answer was ominous, at least to her ears.

"Corvus..." she trailed off, chewing on her scallop as she carefully calculated her next words. He stared at her, picking his wine glass up and bringing it to his lips. "I know I don't really say this very often... not at all, really, but you know I care about you, don't you? I came here for you. I... I stay here for you... I—" She stopped herself, biting her lip. There were some things people like her really not ought to say, no matter how much they wanted to. "Je t'aime tellement," she confessed quietly, settling for expressing herself in French rather than not at all.

Averting her gaze to the oyster on her plate, she heard him put his glass down, and the air between them became so thick that one could slice through it with a knife. This wasn't the first time this heavy sort of tension filled the atmosphere of Lestrange Manor, of course, but this time she felt she had gone a bit too far with her last few words. She briefly panicked. What if he understood them?

"I know. I feel the same way." She didn't dare look up, just about preventing herself from choking on the oyster she'd just swallowed. "I mean—I meant what I said out there. You're my only friend."

 _Friend_. She managed a smile, relieved, and made eye contact with him. "You understand that I want you safe, then? I don't care what Grindelwald wants you to do, I just want you to come back home safe and sound."

The words shocked her as they left her mouth but she let them hang in the air, unable to take them back. She didn't care what Grindelwald wanted him to do? The very thought mortified her. Grindelwald was evil—his task for Corvus was bound to be evil—but she suddenly found herself thinking she'd rather see someone die if it meant Corvus came back to her alive at the end of the day.

Corvus cleared his throat. She picked up her knife, grateful for the portion of lobster thermidor that had appeared on her plate and replaced the shells from her starters.

"I'm glad that you consider this place home now," Corvus said lightly, digging into his lobster. "Your comfort and happiness are important to me."

She nodded, only just having realised that she had indeed referred to Lestrange Manor as her home. Whether it was because of the grounds, the house, the lifestyle, or the man in front of her, this place really did feel like home. She had no idea when this shift had happened but it was true.

They ate in silence for the next few minutes as he kept his eyes downcast whereas she looked out of the windows and took in the starry night sky. She felt a pang of guilt, casting a quick glance at Corvus; she had insisted they had this meal after midnight to keep with French tradition. She wasn't even sure if Le Réveillon de Noël was a wizarding tradition since she had only ever attended a Non-Magique one back at the non-wizarding circus she used to work in. She just hoped Corvus wouldn't end up falling asleep during important Christmas events at Grindelwald's headquarters and thus draw the Dark wizard's ire.

Soon, the two of them were done with the main course and Dot entered the dining room to bring in the Yule log and Banish the empty starter and mains plates away to the kitchen. As she watched the house-elf go about her work, a thought occurred to her. She felt a stab of shame for not having thought of it before.

"Dot," she called, stopping the house-elf from Apparating away.

The house-elf turned to face her. "Oui, Madame?"

She exchanged a shy look with Corvus at being addressed as 'Madame' before saying, "Thank you for the meal. It was delicious." She never spoke French with Dot in front of Corvus so as not to alienate him. Corvus nodded in agreement when Dot looked his way. "I think it's time you received your long overdue Christmas present," she continued, removing one of the long fingerless gloves she'd worn to match her burgundy velvet evening dress. She held it out to the house-elf who remained in her spot, her hands folded demurely before her as she looked at her master. She, too, looked at Corvus in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Monsieur Lestrange freed Dot last Christmas," the house elf finally spoke meekly.

"Vraiment?" she questioned, subconsciously slipping into the native language due to the surprise of it all. "But you're still here?"

"Dot likes it here, Madame. Dot has served this family since before Monsieur Lestrange's father was born."

"I see," she said, staring at Corvus, awestruck, as she put her glove back on. "You may go now but I will be talking to you later. The least I can do is get some proper clothes made for you."

"But, Mad—"

"No arguments, Dot."

She heard the telltale pop of a house-elf Apparating, her gaze still fixed upon Corvus. She felt stupidly happy just watching him eat his serving of bûche de Noël, comfortable in the knowledge that he didn't approve of slavery after all. It gave her a glimmer of hope, proof that he did indeed have some sort of ethical/moral code. She took small bites out of her own portion of the Yule log, wondering if there was still a possibility of turning him against Grindelwald.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he implored, and she blushed at being caught staring at him.

"No reason," she lied, putting her dessert spoon down. She was full.

"Merci d'avoir organisé le repas. This is the best Christmas feast I've ever had," he stated, standing up and striding over to her side of the table.

She quickly followed suit, rising to her feet as she considered if he was flattering her or being truthful. "Je t'en prie."

"I know how you like sleeping in"—she smiled at that—"so in case I don't see you until after I return from Austria, Joyeux Noël." He kissed her cheek very briefly, a rare gesture despite how affectionate the two of them generally were with each other, and pulled back to look at her with strangely sparkling eyes.

"Joyeux Noël," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper, feeling unusually emotional. He held her gaze a little longer than necessary before wishing her goodnight and leaving the room.

Whipping out her wand and Banishing the empty plates and leftover Yule log to the kitchen sink and fridge, respectively, she sauntered over to one of the many large windows and peered out at the starlit sky. She focused in on the brightest star, unwisely thinking of Corvus and their life together, until the viper in her roiled, reminding her of what she was and what could never be.


	11. 1930

Early 1930

Stood in the Morning Room, she watched as Grindelwald and his acolytes walked through the blue flame loyalty circle surrounding the perimeter of the private grounds around the manor house. She recognised Abernathy, Vinda Rosier and, of course, Queenie Goldstein, amongst a few others she knew by face but not by name. The door to the room opened, revealing an uncomfortable looking Corvus.

"What's wrong?" she asked, walking up to him and cradling his face with her left hand.

"We need to go to the ballroom now," he answered, a sense of urgency about him. He gently removed her hand from his face and looped it through the crook of his right elbow. The action eased her nerves; she'd never been to a ball before let alone hosted one.

"Corvus!" Grindelwald called, his voice coming from the Entrance Hall.

Corvus opened the door with his left hand, revealing the Dark wizard and his acolytes standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall with Dot. He guided her out of the room and into the hall, stopping in front of Grindelwald who scrutinised them, his eyes flitting between their faces and their linked arms.

"Well," Grindelwald said, wrinkling his nose at her in distaste before redirecting his gaze to Corvus. "I suppose it's a no for now?"

"Yes, monsieur," Corvus replied firmly. Her eyes darted between the two men, feeling a little awkward at the sudden animosity between them.

Before she could ask Corvus about it, he pulled her into the Dining Room which had temporarily been turned into a ballroom for the evening. She was thoroughly impressed by Dot's hard work; the house-elf had arranged a table of desserts, hors d'oeuvres and beverages, and had even set up a self-playing orchestra.

She patiently stood at the entrance of the room with Corvus, begrudgingly greeting the other acolytes and welcoming them in. They all looked smart in their formal wear, especially Vinda who politely greeted her and Corvus, managing to look elegant in her silk ballgown despite carrying with her an ageing skull similar to the one Leta Lestrange had destroyed in Paris. Grindelwald entered last, tipping his head at Corvus and thereby giving him some sort of command. Corvus nodded, guiding her to the drinks section.

As she picked up a glass of champagne, guests began filtering into the room, and Grindelwald began mingling with each and every one of them from his place at the door. Since the ball was exclusively for Grindelwald's French and Belgian followers, she realised that most of these guests had probably been at the first rally in France back in 1927. It was ironic that back then she'd fearfully whispered to Credence about these people wanting to kill her but now the two of them were standing here as hosts to the very same people.

"Corvus, the two of us are going to be publicly exposed as Grindelwald's supporters now," she stated, swirling the champagne in her wine glass.

"It's not illegal to listen to his speeches," he said, picking up a glass of white wine for himself and tipping it against hers. "Nothing will happen to us."

"This isn't just listening to his speech, though," she pointed out as he sipped his wine. "We've offered our home to him as a venue for yet another one of his rallies disguised as a ball!"

He was about to respond when Grindelwald called for silence in an Amplified voice and took his place in the centre of the room. Vinda joined him, skull in tow, and the guests all turned their full attention to the Dark wizard.

"My brothers, my sisters," Grindelwald began quietly, his voice normal again, forcing the audience to shuffle a little closer to hear him properly. "Three days ago, we ushered in a new year and, with it, the opportunity to usher in a new era of peace. We have much to accomplish in the coming year. We must take our rightful place at the top of society and help les Non-Magique curb their destructive self-hatred and genocidal tendencies. If we do not act now and guide them, they will destroy each other and us. I called you here tonight so you could see for yourselves what will happen if we leave les Non-Magique to their own devices. You might recall that I showed you a vision in Paris. Now, I will show you another. Mademoiselle Rosier..."

Vinda stepped forward, holding the skull out. Grindelwald used the skull the same way he had in Paris and a vision played out in smoke: uniformed men shot at each other; men, women and children were rounded up and escorted into a fenced sort of camp by men in uniforms; and skinny, gaunt and frail people, children included, screamed out and choked before dropping dead.

She almost dropped her wine glass in shock, the people around her gasping and murmuring and crying out for the eradication of les Non-Magique. Grindelwald was clever, very clever indeed. The vision had swayed even her so she could see how it'd solidify the beliefs of those who already followed him. She glanced at Corvus who was watching the vision with a tight jaw and clenched fists, her heart dropping into the pit of her stomach as she realised he probably still believed in Grindelwald's cause just as much as the others did.

"My friends," Grindelwald started carefully, drawing her attention. "Unfortunately, change does not come for free. If ever there was a time to show your generosity, it is now. We fellow wizards and witches must all stand together to make our dreams come true. For the Greater Good"—the guests chanted and Grindelwald smirked in response—"If you wish to make donations to our cause, please speak to my brother wizard, Monsieur MacDuff, tonight."

She scoffed. Not only was Grindelwald a Dark wizard but he was also a man who lived off his rich friends and threw parties using their money. She finally understood where he was getting the funds to pay for his lavish lifestyle akin to that of a king's. As followers flocked to MacDuff, she wondered what they thought they were paying for. It was obvious that magical warfare only required wands, something every wizard and witch of age already owned, rather than expensive machinery used by les Non-Magique. There were some costs, of course, but they were very small. These people were letting Grindelwald loot them.

"May I kindly remind you, once again, not to reveal the location of this ball to those who have not yet proven their loyalty to our cause out of respect and consideration for our hosts, the Lestranges!" Grindelwald announced, raising a glass in the direction of her and Corvus. "Now let's dance to celebrate the future we will build!"

Corvus put his empty glass down on the table before stalking off in Vinda's direction, making her recall the stupid pureblood tradition of the host(ess) sharing their first dance with the guest of honour. She downed the rest of her champagne as Grindelwald approached her. It was going to be a long and arduous evening.

.:. QK .:.

After the ball was finally over, she went straight up to Corvus' bedroom and into the ensuite. She admired her floor-length red silk ballgown in the mirror, marvelling over the beautiful gold sequined bodice which was attached to a tulle skirt overlay. She sighed at her aching feet, kicking her footwear off and removing her feathered golden headpiece. She changed into the deep blue satin nightgown she'd laid down in the ensuite earlier having known she was going to have to give her room—the largest room on the floor—up to Grindelwald for the night.

Walking back into the Master Bedroom, she was surprised to find Corvus sitting on his bed, still in his black and golden dress robes. She had expected him to be in the Master Dressing Room, the adjoining room he was going to be spending the night in. She suddenly felt naked, given that her nightgown had a very low v neckline and only reached her knees, and scrambled to Summon and don her beige velvet dressing gown.

"Who's in the room to the right?" she asked, trying to break the ice. The two of them being in a bedroom together was possibly the most foolish arrangement ever but with only eight guestrooms on the first floor, including hers, she'd been obliged to move in with Corvus so that all of the guests (Grindelwald and his inner circle) would get a room to themselves on the same floor.

"Nagel," he replied solemnly, and she identified Nagel as the second youngest male member of Grindelwald's inner circle.

"Is something wrong?" she questioned, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed and placing a hand on his shoulder. She was surprised to see that his eyes were red. "Corvus?"

"I've failed him," he admitted shakily, his eyes downcast. "He's angry with me."

She was taken aback. She had left Corvus talking to Grindelwald in the ballroom but she'd thought it was a casual conversation rather than an argument. She suddenly remembered the strange exchange between the two men just before the ball began and wondered if that had anything to do with it.

"Is that why you two were... tense... before we entered the ballroom?"

He shook his head. "He suggested on Christmas Day that I consider marrying one of Corvus the second's great-granddaughters. Several of them attended the ball."

"Oh," she let out as she let her hand drop, an ugly churning sensation in her gut. Her eyes stung with tears and she turned away, not wanting him to see her unwarranted display of emotion. "Which one"—she closed her eyes—"which one did you pick?"

"I didn't," he said, and she felt him shuffle closer to her and take her hand. "I said no right in front of you."

Her eyes flew open and she turned to him. She had forgotten about his firm response to Grindelwald. "Why?"

To her knowledge, Corvus always followed Grindelwald's orders and she'd thought that this one albeit a 'suggestion' was no exception. She put her personal feelings aside for a moment and considered the idea of Corvus marrying. After her permanent transformation, he would need someone to love him and stand by his side. It'd be good if he married, but not to one of Grindelwald's followers.

"You know why," he answered, looking at her in a way that made her heart beat fast. She noticed that they were literally pressed right against each other, something that would've been completely normal if they weren't sitting on his bed together and talking about _this_. "What you said to me on Christmas Eve, that was one of the phrases Vinda told me not to say to someone I'm trying to express platonic admiration for."

She put some distance between them but didn't pull her hand out of his grasp. Heat rapidly rushed to her face. "I shouldn't have said that," she muttered, cursing her stupidity. She should've said it in Korean instead.

"But I told you that I felt—feel—the same way," his voice sounded tight and she could practically feel him closing up. He loosened his grip on her hand but she weaved her fingers through his, forcing herself to look at the wounded expression on his face.

"That's exactly why I shouldn't have said it," she whispered, squeezing his hand. Deep down, she'd known for a long time now how he felt about her but had been happy to overlook it as long as he didn't force her to acknowledge it; merely feeling something was very different to actually acting upon said feelings. She had broken the unspoken rule first, though, by babbling out her own feelings out in a moment of weakness. "Corvus, I won't be around forever... it's not worth it."

"You are worth it," he said, touching her face with his free hand much like she had done to him earlier on in the evening. She involuntarily leant into his touch, relishing in the pure and unadulterated love radiating off him. "You're the reason I didn't kill my brother on Christmas Day."

Her eyes widened. Brother? Since when did he have a brother? Corvus Lestrange V had no brothers—if one didn't count his stepbrother Yusuf—and nor did Credence Barebone. She blinked, proceeding to ask him what he was talking about.

"I came back home that day in Obscurus form. I knew he'd be here because you told me you were inviting him and your other friends to dinner," he began, dropping his hand from her face. She frowned at the loss of warmth but didn't dwell on it. "I was going to do it, I had him in my line of sight and everything, but then I saw you sitting at the head of the table and saw how happy you were. I couldn't do it, not after I already caused you so much pain back in Paris."

She sighed. Corvus had only spared an innocent man from an untimely death for the sake of her happiness. The realisation that he would have murdered the man in cold blood had she not been in the right place at the right time was chilling. But then again, she'd told him herself that she didn't care what he had to do in order to keep himself safe (from Grindelwald's wrath). How could she judge his ethics, or lack thereof, when her own were so circumstantial?

"Who's your brother?" She couldn't make sense of it. The only men she had invited were the Scamander brothers, Jacob Kowalski, Nicolas Flamel, and Albus Dumbledore. Yusuf had politely declined her invitation, citing his religion as a reason for not celebrating Christmas and thus had not been present in her home at the time. She couldn't see any of these men as Corvus' brother.

"Albus Dumbledore."

She almost cried out in protest. Dumbledore had told her that same Christmas Day that the only family he had left was a brother two years his junior. Corvus was only twenty-nine, not in his early to mid-forties. Grindelwald was surely behind this atrocious lie.

She would have to consult Dumbledore. For all she was opposed to unwarranted assassinations, she worried for Corvus now that he had failed Grindelwald because of her. "What will Grindelwald do to you now?"

He looked down at their joint hands. "I don't know."

* * *

 **A/N: Going on hiatus due to lack of interest. I think I'm finally ready to complete my old request fic.**


	12. Mid 1930

Mid 1930

Corvus had come home from 'work' one evening with the news that he, along with other important pure-blood figures, had been given tickets to the 406th Quidditch World Cup. She was ecstatic to hear that she was invited. As much as she loved the manor, she always jumped at an excuse to go out. She was mediocre at best with a broom but she liked watching others play Quidditch and very much liked the idea of watching a professional Quidditch match, especially the final of a World Cup.

It took what seemed like years to get to the Top Box but when she and Corvus finally reached the exclusive seating area, she couldn't help but marvel at the sight. The entire pitch could be seen from their spot, as well as the rest of the stadium, the crowd looking like nothing more than ants. She hung back as Corvus greeted the Ministre, smiling when she recognised the couple who had just entered the box: the Kamas. Yusuf nodded at her before going to join Corvus and the Ministre whereas Jemila greeted her in the typical French way a la Faire la bise.

"Où est petit Efraim?" she asked, noticing that Yusuf and Jemila's son wasn't present. Not that she had expected him to be given that the journey to the Top Box was long enough for people who didn't have small children.

"Il est avec l'elfe de maison à la tente."

As two high society pure-blood wives, the two of them often had tea parties together. Over the last two years, she'd been to the Kama mansion many times and had watched with a peculiar sort of envy as Jemila went through pregnancy and then her first year of motherhood. She didn't know why she should feel jealous at all; she was never the maternal sort and even if she wasn't an individual who carried a hereditary female line disease, she probably would've had just the one child to carry on its father's and/or her bloodline(s).

"Ooh, je devrai le voir au moins une fois avant de me retirer dans ma tente pour la nuit," she said, nevertheless looking forward to seeing the Kama heir.

"Bien sûr. Ton neveu te manque!"

The two women laughed as Yusuf returned, exchanging pleasantries with her before leading his wife away to their assigned seats. She, herself, joined Corvus who was waiting for her by a pair of empty seats between a Ministry official and a female guest.

"Has France ever been to the finals before?" she questioned as they both sat down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the lady next to her look at her.

"First time ever, apparently," Corvus replied, his voice drowned out by the commentator's Amplified announcement of the start of the match.

As much as she had been looking forward to watching the match, she got distracted almost as soon as it started because she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. However, when she scanned her surroundings she could see that those around her were all far too enthralled and delighted by the beauty of the game to even spare her a glance. After another cursory look around the Top Box, she mentally appeased herself and picked up the Omnioculars Corvus had bought for her earlier in the day.

Soon, she forgot her initial discomfort, fully immersed in the match, even cheering along with the crowd like a child whenever France scored. She was almost sad when the game ended, though she was happy to see her national team win. It was a lucky finish; Albania was winning 100-30 until the French seeker caught the Snitch, making the end score 180-100 to France. She turned to Corvus who seemed to be deep in conversation with the official next to him under the roar of applause from the crowd, and both she and the lady sitting next to her clapped politely as the winning team made their way to the Top Box to receive the trophy.

The lady dropped her wand and it landed next to her feet. She picked it up, handing it to the woman.

"Merci," the lady said, taking her wand. "Madame Lestrange?"

"Je vous en prie," she replied, only a little surprised that the lady knew who she was. "Oui, je suis Madame Lestrange. Et vous?"

"Madame Mead. Mon mari travaille avec Monsieur Lestrange."

"Je vois." She tried not to let her scepticism be known. Corvus' 'job' was flirting with Ministry officials so unless Madame Mead's husband was another one of Grindelwald's agents, what she had just said didn't make any sense.

She turned to Corvus after he placed his hand on her shoulder, leaning forward to whisper in her ear about his plans to meet with some of Grindelwald's followers. She rolled her eyes in annoyance before nodding, watching as him and the official got up and exited the box together. She hadn't realised that even Ministry officials were so corrupt as to privately support Grindelwald.

Jemila appeared by her side a few moments later, sitting in Corvus' seat.

"Il va où?" she asked, tipping her head in Corvus' direction.

"Ne demande pas," was her exasperated reply as Yusuf joined them. She could practically feel Madame Mead staring at her. "Je pourrais aussi bien passer à votre tente et voir petit Efraim maintenant."

Jemila nodded, and the three of them made their way to the Ministre as soon as the French team left the Top Box. They politely said their goodbyes to him, his wife, and the commentator. Most of her public life involved putting on a good show for the rest of the French public; most of Grindelwald's wealthy followers were still highly respected members of the wizarding community. While she was not a follower herself, she was (according to the public) the wife of one and had to behave accordingly. She hoped whatever Corvus had gone off to do wouldn't damage their public image.

.:. QK .:.

As Jemila went to put her son to bed, she went to sit on one of the sofas next to Yusuf as his house-elf brought them two cups of tea. She immediately picked up her cup of tea, taking a long drink and then sighing in content.

"Rien de tel que une tasse de thé," she drawled, sitting back and relaxing, "mais Corvus insiste toujours pour avoir du vin à la place."

"Des ennuis au paradis?"

She smiled, shaking her head. She was happier than ever just being with Corvus. It seemed so shameful that she should want nothing more than to be a rich pure-blood housewife but it was the truth. The need to take Grindelwald down and support Dumbledore in doing so was still there, as was her desire to become better at combatant magic, but it took a backseat to living a relatively quiet life.

"Je nage dans le bonheur," she responded, turning to Yusuf. Corvus still seemed to avoid him; she'd noticed how in the Top Box Corvus had waited for her from afar while she spoke with Yusuf and Jemila rather than walking over to her and escorting her to their seats like he usually would. "Ça ne te dérange pas vraiment qu'il assume l'identité de Corvus?"

Yusuf gave a hearty laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "Voir un garçon au hasard occuper la propriété et la richesse de Corvus m'amuse. Non, ton Corvus me fait une faveur."

She nodded, relieved, suddenly remembering what she had asked of Yusuf right before his last 'business trip' to the UK. "Est-ce que Dumbledore a déjà envoyé une réponse?"

"Oui, il a," Yusuf answered before calling for his house elf to bring him something. Almost immediately, the house-elf appeared with a small envelope and, after a gesture from her master, handed it to her. "Il m'a dit de te donner ceci."

"Merci beaucoup," she said, putting her half-empty cup of tea down on the coffee table in front of her and tearing the envelope open as the house-elf made herself scarce.

 _Dear Miss Anguis,_

 _Your friend is most definitely not my brother of any sort. I understand that he was a baby during the 1901 shipwreck LL spoke of but my mother died in 1899 and my father was already dead and buried a few years before that. As for him being one of my kinsmen, I have looked into the possibility and have concluded that it is very unlikely. My brother, the last of our line, definitely did not father a child in 1900/1901, of that I am certain. He and I are the only male-line descendants left._

 _Grindelwald has lied to your friend._

 _Please destroy this after you have read it._

 _Regards,_

 _AD_

After reading the short letter one more time, she ripped it up and threw it into the fireplace. She returned to her seat, finishing the rest of her tea and wondering what to do with the information she'd just learnt. She'd known from the very beginning that 'Aurelius Dumbledore' was a lie but it was reassuring to finally have confirmation from a somewhat credible source. As shady as Dumbledore was, this didn't seem like something he'd lie about; he had no recourse for it.

Corvus could not find out about this yet, not while he still believed in Grindelwald's cause. He was already on thin ice with Grindelwald after his aborted assassination attempt on Albus Dumbledore. He was desperate to fall back into favour with the Dark wizard. She didn't want to tell him now, without tangible proof, and risk being accused of lying to him. She didn't want to know who he would choose to believe out of her and Grindelwald.

Corvus would have to lose all respect for Grindelwald, all trust in him, before she delivered this last blow.

"Tout va bien?" Yusuf asked, a curious look on his face.

"Oui," she replied, setting her empty cup of tea down. She glanced at the magical clock on the tent wall. She'd been here for almost an hour. There was no way to tell if Corvus was done speaking to his associates or not.

Jemila hurriedly approached the seating/living area, dropping down into an armchair. "Il devient de plus en plus difficile de l'endormir."

Deciding to wait a little bit before returning to her own tent, in case Corvus was still occupied, she launched into a conversation with her two friends.

.:. QK .:.

Later that evening, she returned to her tent to find Corvus downing a small glass of Firewhisky. He managed to quickly pour himself another before she even reached him but when she did, she pulled the glass out of his hand before he could drink from it and gently placed it on a nearby table.

"How was your talk with your associates?" she inquired, looping her right arm through his left and guiding him away from the alcohol kitted table. "Dot! Take the drinks away immediately!"

Corvus stiffened as the house-elf meekly replied in the positive. Something was clearly bothering him. She sighed. She should have known that running into Grindelwald's followers and talking to them would have an effect on him; while he seemed to believe in Grindelwald's cause, some of Grindelwald's extreme actions and views, as well as his followers' attitudes towards the Non-Magique, did make him uncomfortable. She also should have known that there were bound to be some Grindelwald supporters attending the Quidditch World Cup, especially since she had seen how many of the French and Belgian were willing to throw their money away 'For the Greater Good'.

She peered up at him, surveying his red-rimmed eyes. "Do you want to go for a walk? We can talk..."

"No, I'm tired," he responded hastily, walking her to their bedroom for the night and sitting down on the edge of the bed. She did so too.

"I wish you would just tell me what's bothering you," she stated, squeezing his arm with her left hand. "You eventually always do."

"My power is fading," he murmured, hanging his head low. The action gave her pause. He didn't do that too often anymore. Corvus Lestrange didn't slouch or bow his head low. Credence Barebone did. It was strange. She hadn't thought of him as Credence in a year now; he didn't want her to.

"How is it fading?"

"I can't travel in Obscurus form anymore." She blinked, recalling how he had arrived at the campsite via Portkey with her rather than via Obscurus. At the time, she'd assumed that he was merely accompanying her.

"Since when?" she implored, thinking back to the last few days. She hadn't seen him use his Obscurus lately but she had chalked that down to the fact that he didn't really use it to travel around the manor house.

"A week or two," he answered hoarsely, disentangling his arm from hers and holding his head in his hands. "I've felt my power gradually weaken over the last few months but now it's almost completely gone. Most of the time, I can't even feel it..."

"But you've always been able to feel it, ever since you were a child," she finished for him, remembering how he had tearfully told her about the woes of having such a burdensome 'power' inside him. It had solidified, in her mind, her initial idea of the pair of them being kindred spirits. "Isn't this a good thing?"

"I'm not special anymore," he spoke, shaking his head. "Grindelwald told me that because of my powers, I'm the only one capable of defeating my brother."

She bristled, thinking about what she had learnt mere hours ago. He was still concerned about what Grindelwald thought of him. He would never believe her if she told him the truth now. Grindelwald was a saint in his eyes, someone who made him feel special for all the wrong reasons.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've seen you training. I don't think you're any less powerful than you were a year ago." He dropped his arms, turning to look at her with his fear filled eyes. "As for being special, you already are. You've lived twenty years longer than any other Obscurial. You're the first to rid yourself of your Obscurus."

"But what if this is how an Obscurial dies?"

Her heart almost stopped beating. She knew as much about Obscurials as she did about Maledictuses. She had never stopped to consider that his life had just as much of a time limit on it as hers (human life) did. She pressed herself into his side, resting her chin on his shoulder. At least they'd live their last days out together.


	13. Late 1930

Late 1930

Most mornings, she tucked herself away in a corner of one of the many sitting rooms, pouring over various books she'd picked out of the library. This morning, she was spending time in the library itself, reading about women's health in the wizarding world. She was already on her second book of the day, reading the section on contraceptive charms and potions when a loud knock on the door drew her attention. She looked up from her book, frowning. She wasn't expecting anyone.

"Madame, Mademoiselle Goldstein est là," Dot called from behind the door.

"Laissez-la entrer!" she ordered, closing the book and Banishing it to its place on one of the many bookshelves. She didn't want to be caught reading that book in front of a Legilimens, of all people. Queenie strode in not a second later. She stood up, leading her guest to the sofas on either side of the fireplace. "Queenie, what can I do for you?"

"I don't know how to ask you this-oh!"

She blinked, watching as the blonde woman plopped down into the sofa opposite her with a shocked expression on her face. It was the most emotion she'd ever seen the other woman display.

"Is something wrong?" she asked wearily, slightly concerned about Queenie's strange outburst.

Queenie seemed to hesitate before speaking. "You're not pregnant again... are you?"

Her eyes widened as heat flooded her cheeks. Queenie had read her mind back in that English hospital, yes, but she had never expected her to acknowledge it let alone mention what she had seen. The hospital visit was private, something she hadn't even told her closest friends about, and it wasn't something she wanted to remember.

"Is that what you came to ask me?" she spat, trying to reign in her anger. She felt nothing short of humiliated. Queenie, being a Legilimens, had to know that she had crossed a line.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Queenie exclaimed, biting her lip but not looking away out of shame as she ought to have done. She sighed before repeating, "I'm sorry."

"Why don't you stop reading my mind and tell me why you're here?" she suggested forcefully, not appreciating how Queenie had raked up painful memories by asking such an insensitive question.

"I was wondering if you were inviting Tina over again this Christmas," Queenie stated, looking into her eyes without invading her mind for the first time.

The statement didn't really surprise her. Last Christmas, Tina had told her of her joy at Queenie writing her a heartfelt letter just days before Christmas. She had humbly protested when Tina thanked her for talking to Queenie on Valentine's Day, adamant that Queenie had written the letter because she wanted to and not because she had been prodded to do so by her.

"I don't think I will be, no," she responded honestly, recalling how Corvus had tried to assassinate Dumbledore in their Dining Room last Christmas. She didn't want a repeat of that, even though Corvus had stopped himself because of her. "Why do you ask? You're corresponding with her, aren't you?"

Queenie shifted in her seat. "Grindelwald reads my letters. He thinks the correspondence is one-sided." _He thinks_. She wondered if Queenie dared to read Grindelwald's mind too.

Grindelwald read Queenie's letters. It was not unexpected. If he had such control over an acolyte who lived in France, her own Corvus, of course, he had even more over acolytes who actually lived with him in Austria. Queenie probably wanted to talk to Tina through her. But why hadn't she asked her before? She had even stayed at the manor for a night following that wretched New Year's ball.

"He was here too," Queenie answered, obviously having read her mind again. "He could've heard us. I don't want him to think I'm disloyal to him." The blonde suddenly broke out into a smile, her eyes sparkling. "Tina's finally marrying. I want to be there."

"Yes, I know." Newt had sent her a letter not too long ago, complaining that Tina had picked a date but was still reluctant to get married without her sister present. He said he understood her need, though, because he wouldn't want to get married without Theseus being there either. "Would Grindelwald let you?"

"With your help."

She didn't like Queenie, not even close, but she would help her attend the wedding for the sake of her soon to be married friends, especially the one who'd offered her a place to stay after she'd been left with nowhere else to go. She'd be damned if Newt couldn't get married because she refused to put her personal feelings aside for a short while.

"For Newt and Tina," she agreed coolly.

Queenie nodded. "For Newt and Tina."

.:. QK .:.

A few days later, she sat in her private sitting room, brewing a quarterly potion. According to the potions book she'd taken from the library, the quarterly potion stopped a woman's monthly bleed for twelve weeks. It was the perfect remedy for her; she had no need for painful monthly bleeds and the cramps and mood swings that accompanied them. It wasn't as if she was ever going to have children.

Concocting the potion didn't seem like a chore to her. In fact, she rather enjoyed brewing potions. If there was one 'witch thing' she was good at, it was this. She'd been delighted when she first discovered this. She'd always been insecure about her magical ability, especially when it came to casting offensive and defensive duelling spells, and often thought she wasn't worthy of being called a witch because of it. However, here in her sitting room, standing above a boiling cauldron, she felt like she was capable of more than just turning into a viper.

As she stirred the contents of the cauldron with a stirring rod, she heard a knock on the door before the soft click indicating the opening of said door. She turned briefly, surprised to see Corvus entering the room.

"I thought you were at the Ministère," she said, turning back to her cauldron and extinguishing the flame underneath it.

"I was," he informed, approaching her desk with what appeared to be a booklet rolled up in his hands. He put it down on the table and she recognised it as a weekly magazine. She didn't read magazines unless she was at Jemila's, preferring fact to gossip, but this was the first time she was seeing a photo of herself on the front page of one. "You're much better at reading French so..."

Picking up her wand, she Translated the front page of the magazine as well as the inside page which contained more photos of her, one of them being of her at Yusuf's wedding as well as another of her cosying up to Corvus during the Quidditch World Cup. Corvus raised an eyebrow at either her use of magic or at what was written in the magazine. She couldn't tell which.

"What does it say?" she questioned, putting her wand down and ladling a large dollop of the now cool potion into a glass.

"They're complimenting you on your fashion choices," he responded, sounding honest. She smiled despite herself, astonished that they hadn't called the dress robes she'd worn to Yusuf's wedding old-fashioned. "You're still known as Madame Lestrange. They want to know what your first name is."

They would never find out her given name. She barely knew it herself.

She drank the potion, wrinkling her nose up at the bitter taste it left in her mouth. According to the book, that was exactly how it was supposed to taste. She put the glass down, proceeding to store the rest of the potion in small glass vials. Only time would tell if the potion had taken effect—her next monthly was due in a few days' time.

"Anything else?" she asked lightly, Banishing her potion apparatus and ingredients to the utility. Dot always complained that she left her no work to do whenever she sent Scoured items back to the kitchen or utility.

"No, nothing." For some reason, she felt like he was lying. Banishing the last of the supplies—the stirring rod—she peered over his shoulder and scanned the contents of the page just before he closed the magazine and swiped it off her desk. He was too late. She had already seen what she had to see.

PROUD. She had been described as proud by some unknown source who had apparently spoken to her. _Proud_. It couldn't be farther from the truth. What did she have to be proud of? She wasn't a pure-blood. She didn't have a job. Unlike other wealthy housewives, she didn't have a child to dote on. She never would have children. Proud... What did a Maledictus have to be proud of?

From what she'd seen in the article, there was also some speculation about her origin. No doubt the French wizarding community wanted to know which pure-blood family the great Corvus Lestrange's wife came from.

"Do you want me to make an official statement about you being from a Korean pure-blood line?"

She raised an eyebrow, amazed. Corvus hated the media. He avoided the cameras at every opportunity and spoke as little as possible to his associates let alone pesky journalists. "You'd do that?" she asked, her voice sounding strangely thick to her own ears. "For me?"

He gave her a pointed look as if she had said something stupid. "If you want me to."

She reigned in her unwarranted emotions and mustered up a genuine smile for him. "If you think it'll help."

.:. QK .:.

Early in the morning, Corvus had gone off to make an official statement regarding the blood status of his 'wife' and how he had met her. She was nervous. Corvus had told her that he was going to tell the media that the two of them married before he 'returned' to France. He was also going to lie about his upbringing to maintain his respect within the wizarding world. She didn't like that he was lying about her and their relationship but she brought it upon herself by answering to 'Madame Lestrange'.

She stared at her haggard reflection in the mirror, beginning to pile the makeup on. She'd undergone her mandatory transformation the previous night and only got a few hours of sleep in before she suddenly woke up. She hadn't been able to go back to sleep after that. As she concealed the bags under her eyes, she heard a loud crack behind her.

"Dot?" she called, putting her brush down. The house-elf never Apparated directly into her bedroom.

Turning around, she saw that she was alone in the room. Pushing down the uneasy sensation in her gut, she turned back to the mirror, gasping at the reflection of a person standing behind her. Acting on instinct, she ducked just in time to avoid the jet of green light directed at her. The mirror exploded, sending shards of glass flying across the room, one of the smaller ones striking her left cheek. She grabbed her wand and cast a spell in the general direction of her unknown assailant.

Following a gruelling duel that destroyed much of her bedroom, she lost her footing and fell to the floor, failing to get back to her feet as the masked figure towered above her. The person reached down for her and grabbed her throat, choking her, and she retaliated by knocking the wizard's wand out of their hand. Her own wand was lying on what was left of her bed. She clutched at her throat, gasping for air and closing her eyes, resigned to her only remaining option. Her bones shifted painfully and her skin became scaly as she used the only 'power' she had, slipping out of the wizard's grasp a few seconds later and landing on the floor in viper form.

Sensing the killer backing away from her, she felt an insurmountable rage building up within her. This person had forced her to transform into a state of being that she hated four days earlier than necessary, mere hours after her last transformation, but was trying to escape without consequence. This was not to be borne.

Without a second thought, she rose, going straight for the wizard's jugular. The wizard tried to run away but to no avail. As she dug her fangs into her would-be killer's flesh, she marvelled at their stupidity; they could've Apparated away to safety instead of running like a Non-Magique. After a few more attacks for good measure, she reverted to human form, towering above the dying wretch who had stood above her like this mere minutes ago.

Breathing heavily, she grabbed her discarded wand and magically flung the wizard's—witch's—mask off. She exhaled sharply when she saw the witch's face.

Madame Mead.


	14. 1931

Early 1931

In the months since her attack, she took to sleeping in a bedroom on the second floor; the entire first floor, even Corvus' room, reminded her of her close shave with death at the hands of Madame Mead. At first, she'd had no idea why the woman had been so determined to kill her to the point of risking capture by coming to her house to murder her rather than taking her chances in public. It was baffling. Madame Mead seemed to have been nothing more than a pure-blood wife until Corvus told her that didn't know of any Monsieur Mead who worked at the Ministère.

Strangely enough, Corvus had been the one to suspect that Grindelwald was behind the attempt and had even gone as far as confronting him during a meeting in Austria. The Dark wizard had, of course, denied any involvement. Grindelwald hadn't even crossed _her_ mind. After giving the matter some thought, she had come to the conclusion that Madame Mead, a pure-blood, had found out that the famed Corvus Lestrange's wife was actually a Maledictus and had taken it upon herself to eliminate her. After all, pure-bloods killed the likes of her for sport.

She knew that her theory made Corvus uncomfortable. He was always trying to get her to forget what she was, insisting that it didn't define who she was, but she found his words hypocritical; he hadn't even considered the words when they came out of her mouth back in 1927. She shook her head, walking down the corridor at a leisurely pace as she passed several grand second-floor windows. Corvus only wanted her to be comfortable. How could she not know that, especially when he'd finally decided to place anti-Apparition wards on the manor house and surrounding grounds? If Corvus was to be believed, not even Grindelwald had the clearance to bypass the wards.

Wandering aimlessly, she found herself staring at a door to a room she'd once stumbled upon by accident. Bored, she pushed the door open to reveal the moderately sized room she had absolutely no reason to be in; the red wallpapered room was full of toys and children's books as well as a curtained bassinet which was situated against the wall opposite the door. She frowned. Nurseries were meant to be cosy, not that she had any experience of actually living in a proper house as a child let alone an actual room.

She narrowed her eyes. One day, long after she was gone, Corvus would welcome a pure-blood Lestrange heir. That heir would require this room as a safe haven before eventually being thrown into the world of pure-blood mania and supremacy. She needed something to keep her busy while she tried to rebuild her confidence, and this room was in dire need of redecorating. She would never be able to give her Corvus an heir but she knew someone else would. The least she could do was make the room suitable for his child.

.:. QK .:.

"It's cold," she muttered, drawing her arms around herself. Corvus sighed in response, down on one knee in front of the chair she was sitting on. For the last few minutes, he'd been trying to convince her to go outside with him but to no avail. She simply didn't want to.

"You haven't left the house in months," he said softly, taking one of her hands and drawing it into his, bringing their hands to rest on his propped up knee. "I didn't say anything before because it was winter but it's spring now. You love a spring breakfast under a marquee."

"Loved," she corrected, her voice hoarse. She gulped. "That was before..." she trailed off, knowing she didn't have to finish when she looked into his understanding eyes.

"I told you I've warded everything up until the gate," he reminded not unkindly. "It's safe."

She shuddered involuntarily. She'd always had a hard time believing something she was yet to see. She trusted Corvus without a doubt but he probably hadn't warded such a large area before; Vinda et al took care of warding Grindelwald's various rally locations. No. She wouldn't believe there was an anti-Apparition jinx in place until she saw a wizard, preferably Grindelwald, being propelled away from the manor grounds.

"I have things to do," she said unconvincingly, not wanting him to think she didn't trust his magical abilities. "I've almost finished the nursery."

He gave her a pointed look. "You've _already_ finished the nursery."

"Corvus!" she cried indignantly, pulling her hand out of his. "It was supposed to be a surprise!"

She had wanted to be the one to show him the redesigned nursery. It had been her pride and joy over the last few weeks and she wanted to share it with him. The idea that he'd possibly already seen it dampened her barely revived spirits.

"I haven't seen it yet," he stated sincerely. She relaxed, able to tell that he wasn't lying to appease her. "You can show me." She opened her mouth to speak but he continued, "But only if you come outside with me."

She wrinkled her nose. She was still hesitant to believe that the anti-Apparition wards were one hundred per cent effective but the chances of someone attacking her with Corvus by her side were admittedly very low. Whether Corvus was really as powerful as others believed, especially given that his Obscurus was practically non-existent now, was another matter entirely.

"Fine," she relented, smirking when he extending his hand out towards her from his knelt position in front of her.

He smiled as she took his hand, no doubt proud of his ability to talk her round in five seconds flat. She only hoped she'd be able to do the same when it came to finally turning him against Grindelwald and stripping him of the only family name he'd ever known.

.:. QK .:.

"The Lestrange name will die with me," Corvus stated, observing the nursery. He currently stood in front of the bassinet, staring down into it as if there was a little someone laying inside.

She watched him from the rocking chair, letting out a disturbed noise. Corvus was as drab as her these days. Ever since she'd shown him the nursery for the first time, he regularly visited it, spending a lot of time ruminating in the now cosy room. She almost regretted showing him the room at all but felt a burgeoning sense of pride whenever she surveyed her work.

"Why do you say so?" she asked quietly, feeling oddly rejuvenated, even for a middle day of her transformation cycle. "You're only thirty. You've got plenty of time."

She, on the other hand, did not. The serpent inside her grew unbearably restless if she didn't transform every four days, serving as a reminder of the ticking time bomb of her humanity. She couldn't imagine just not turning back into a human one day, never waking up in Corvus' arms again, never talking to Dot again, never seeing any of her friends again. In a moment of self-depreciation, she wondered what the magazines would say and what Corvus would even tell the media.

Her eyes watered up as she looked at Corvus. She was the last person in the world who would overestimate her own value but whether or not the world missed her, she knew that Corvus would. She hoped he wouldn't break down. Most importantly, she hoped Grindelwald wouldn't exploit Corvus' pain to fulfil his evil agenda.

"I don't know if I'll live past your last transformation," he confessed in a whisper, his back turned to her.

Her heart almost dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Ever since she was eleven she had known that she would never have a bright future. She was never supposed to exist, born out of a despicable man's greed and her mother's helplessness, and her mother had intended for her to achieve what she, herself, had desperately wanted to before she was forced into motherhood: the end of their cursed bloodline. She'd adhered to her mother's wishes thus far but the thought of Corvus, a relatively normal man, dying soon after she permanently transformed was depressing. There was no reason for him not to be able to have the family he'd always craved.

"You will," she said softly, "You've always wanted a family, especially after Mary Lou and Chastity died. You're a wizard; you'll have a long life. You could start a family in your mid-thirties." _After she was long gone_.

"I wanted a mother and father," he informed, looking back at her over his shoulder. "I never thought of having children. I wouldn't be a good father. There was no Mister Barebone and I don't even know who Albus Dumbledore's father was. And Corvus Lestrange the fourth doesn't exactly sound like a great example."

She nodded, Yusuf's words about Leta's Lestrange's parents still fresh in her mind. However, the words that really stuck in her mind were the ones regarding Albus Dumbledore's father. Corvus hadn't referred to the man as his own father like he should have... Maybe he didn't believe in Grindelwald's revelation after all.

Alas, it was not yet the right time to tell him what Albus Dumbledore had told her but the right time was drawing closer. She could feel it.


	15. Mid 1931

Mid 1931

"Madame Lestrange," Vinda greeted, turning her nose up at her hostess.

 _She_ smirked. Vinda always behaved like this with her whenever Corvus was out of earshot. She raised an eyebrow, leaning in and whispering, "Madame Grindelwald."

Vinda's eyes widened. Were it not for her artificially applied rosy cheeks, she was sure the French lieutenant would've been blushing. "Vous—"

"Vinda," Queenie interjected, cutting her off and placing a hand on her shoulder. She briefly met _her_ eyes from behind Vinda. "Let's go inside."

Queenie literally pushed Vinda towards the Dining Hall and Madame Lestrange continued to greet the guests in the Entrance Hall. She exchanged pleasantries with all, clamping down on her nerves. Grindelwald and his acolytes were temporarily moving in because their French safe house had been compromised. Lestrange Manor was now the official (amongst followers) headquarters of the great movement. Those who fancied themselves the elite freedom fighters for the whole of wizardkind were now free to roam her house and she couldn't do anything about it.

Upon entering the Dining Hall, she found Grindelwald standing behind the seat to the right of the seat at the head of the table—her seat. She sighed inwardly. Pure-blood protocol dictated that the two highest ranking (fe)male guests sit on either side of the host(ess). Glancing at Corvus who was standing behind the other head seat, she could see that he had followed the rules; Vinda was on his right and Carrow was on his left. She sauntered over to her seat, her heels clicking on the cold, hard floor, and sat down with everyone else.

To her delight, Grindelwald did not tap his wine glass and make some extravagant speech. Nor did he try to irritate her by engaging in conversation with her. In fact, he barely looked at her, his eyes fixated on the uncomfortable looking blonde on his right. He was talking to her in a hushed tone but she didn't have to hear the words to know that the Dark wizard was saying something unpleasant. More than unpleasant, if the way Queenie's face had drained of colour was anything to go by.

"Madame," MacDuff spoke from her left. She tore her gaze away from Grindelwald and Queenie, realising that she'd been staring at them, and turned to the man.

"Oui, monsieur?" she replied airily, donning the pure-blood facade of superiority and elegance she'd perfected over the years.

MacDuff began to make polite small talk and although she wasn't really listening, she responded in kind where necessary while watching Grindelwald and Queenie out of the corner of her eye. As MacDuff paused to select another starter, she stole a glance at Corvus and saw that he was casually conversing with Vinda. He seemed to feel her eyes on him and met her gaze across the table with a smile, and she returned the smile, faltering slightly when she saw Vinda giving her a snobbish look again. She narrowed her eyes at the other woman before turning her attention back to MacDuff.

She would have to get used to the presence of her dinner guests. She was going to be living with them for an indefinite period of time.

.:. QK .:.

"You're sleeping up here tonight?" she questioned from her seat in front of the dressing table, combing her waist-length ebony locks. She heard Corvus close the door behind him. "The others are all downstairs."

"Exactly," he said, placing his black silk dressing gown on the back of her chair. He had a set of his nightclothes in his hands. "You sleep next to me on most of your non-transforming nights but you haven't slept in my room ever since they moved in. I know their presence makes you uncomfortable so I've decided to join you up here."

He was right. Due to the attempt on her life, she felt strange sleeping on the same floor as Grindelwald even though she didn't think he had anything to do with it. She still had nightmares about the ordeal, not so much about the attack on her but rather about how she had taken the assailant's life. She had committed a murder, self-defence or not, because she could have just as easily spared the woman's life. "You can't just give the guests an entire floor to themselves. It's not done."

"I don't think they know that I'm up here," he stated by way of explanation, shrugging his shoulders. "It won't make a difference."

"If you say so," she said, smiling at his reflection in the mirror. He smiled back, heading towards the ensuite as she put her comb down. "Be back quick!" she called after him, feeling giddy as she let herself fall back onto her bed. She closed her eyes, thinking about Corvus.

Ever since the guests—or rather, nonpaying tenants—moved in, she hadn't been able to be as open and affectionate with Corvus in the way she realised she'd long taken for granted. Although she was sure that her relationship with Corvus was old news both among the acolytes and the rest of the wizarding world, she was reluctant to let everyone, especially her enemies, see how strongly she felt for her so-called husband. In Grindelwald's eyes, she was sure she was nothing more than a pure-blood mistress—though he referred to her as Madame Lestrange—he could replace anytime with a pure-blood wife, preferably one of Corvus' Lestrange descended 'cousins'. She didn't want to draw unwanted attention to a relationship that would only last a few days and end up forcing a certain Dark wizard to engineer an (even more) premature end to it.

"My love," a voice whispered, making her shiver. Her eyes flew open and she saw Corvus standing at the foot of her bed.

"My love?" she repeated questioningly, cocking an eyebrow up. He never called her that.

He surprised her even further when he practically pounced on her, attacking her lips with his. Her eyes widened and she pushed at his chest, her back still flat against the mattress, trying to get him to at least look at her. She hadn't taken the quarterly potion yet. She didn't want any mistakes to happen again. She froze when she heard the soft thud of his pants hitting the floor.

"Stop!" she cried out, turning her head to the side and ripping her lips away from his. She tried to push him away again but he was too strong. He was scaring her. The cold look in his eyes froze the blood in her veins. "I haven't taken the potion!"

"Be quiet!" he muttered, slipping a hand under her short nightgown and pulling at her underwear. She struggled underneath him, his other hand pinning both of her wrists above her head. She continued to writhe until she saw his hair begin to change colour from raven black to a coppery silver, and heard his grunts become lower and deeper.

"Corvus!" she shrieked, part relieved and part horrified as she realised what was going on. The man trying to violate her pulled back and pulled his pants up just as Corvus opened the door to the ensuite. She tugged her underwear back on, watching numbly as Corvus chased the man to the bedroom door and beyond.

.:. QK .:.

"It was one of the acolytes," Corvus spoke, sitting next to her on the bed. "I didn't see his face." She bristled. It wasn't one of the acolytes. It was the leader himself, the same bastard who'd told Corvus about his false parentage.

"It wasn't," she countered, bringing the covers closer to her chest. "He wanted to ruin me for you. He would've put a child in me to rip us apart."

"A child? He didn't...?" Corvus trailed off, his voice strained.

She shook her head, shuddering at the thought. "He didn't. He didn't get that far but only because he started changing back." She covered her face with her hands as an intense wave of shame crept upon her. "If he hadn't, I would've let him... after a while."

"I would never do that to you," she heard him say, flinching when she felt him put his arm around her. Less than a second later, she remembered that it was actually him touching her and she relaxed in his embrace, dropping her hands from her face and leaning into him. He was right. He'd never be so rough and demanding with her, especially after being told she wasn't protected; he knew how strongly she felt about using contraceptives every single time.

She peered up at him, sniffing. "If I tell you something, will you believe me?"

"I will," he answered instantly, tightening his hold on her. She sighed, bracing herself. Saying he would believe her was one thing but actually believing her was something else entirely.

"You're not Aurelius Dumbledore."

He stiffened, releasing his iron-clad grip on her. She responded by snuggling further into his chest, afraid that he would become angry with her. "What?"

"I talked to Albus Dumbledore," she blurted out quickly, fast enough that he wouldn't be able to get a word in. "He said it's impossible for you to even be a half-brother because his father died a few years before his mother who died in 1899. Even if you were born to his mother in 1899, you wouldn't—"

"-be a Dumbledore," he finished with her, clenching his fists. "When did he tell you this?"

She gulped, realising how bad her answer was going to sound. She could lie, of course, she could, but then she wouldn't be able to forgive herself whenever she next looked at Corvus and every time after that. "Around a year ago," she confessed quietly. She could've sworn she heard a pin drop.

Corvus moved back, away from her, leaving her feeling both cold and worried. She watched him anxiously, waiting for the outburst of anger. It didn't come. Instead, he got off the bed and strode out of the room without so much as another word.

"Grindelwald!" he yelled, his no doubt Amplified voice carrying all the way to her room. She grabbed her silk gown from the foot of the bed where Grindelwald had thrown it and donned it, willing her trembling legs to hold her weight as she swung them over the bed and got to her feet.

"Corvus, my boy, calm down," Grindelwald soothed as she stopped at the top of the stairs from the first floor to the second, well out of view of the inhabitants of the first floor but close enough to discern what was being said. "My dear boy, what is the matter?"

"Is it true?" Corvus demanded, his voice shaky. "That I'm not Albus Dumbledore's brother?"

The lack of reaction from the rest of the acolytes who were bound to be witnessing the confrontation confirmed what she already knew; all of Grindelwald's inner circle knew of their leader's plan to use Corvus as a weapon against Dumbledore.

"Whatever the girl has told you—"

"It's not her that I don't believe!" Corvus interjected. She felt a wave of relief wash over her as she leaned on the bannister, all fear of Corvus being angry with her gone. "Either Dumbledore lied to her... or you lied to me."

"Albus' father sired you within the four walls of Azkaban and gave you to your mother's sister to take you to America. Your aunt died because Albus wouldn't take you in and care for you like he did his other siblings. You were only ever your father's bastard in his eyes. You weren't from the same womb as him, not like Aberforth and their beloved Ariana. Had Leta Lestrange not swapped you with her own brother, you would have died too, just like Albus wanted you to."

She couldn't take Grindelwald's lies anymore but barely stopped herself from jumping to Albus' defence. There was no guarantee that Grindelwald's words were one hundred per cent untrue and she had no tangible proof to discredit him anyway.

Luckily, Corvus was not in the mood for blindly believing his dark mentor. "So he predicted the shipwreck?" he questioned sceptically. "Or did he somehow cause it?"

Grindelwald chuckled. "Albus is many things but he's not a seer."

"Not like you. If you knew that ship was going to sink, why didn't you warn my aunt before she boarded it?"

"I did not foresee it. I had already severed ties with Albus."

"So then how did you know who I was?"

"He didn't," a female with an American accent announced. "You don't have your Occlumency wards up when you drift off to sleep. I heard what you were thinking last night while you were asleep and I heard you clearly admit to yourself that there was never an Aurelius."

"Queenie!" Grindelwald warned.

Queenie was not deterred. "I can't follow someone who tries to rape a woman to keep her husband under control. I've held my disgust in for days now but I can't do it anymore. You could've humiliated her any other way."

The admission was chilling. Grindelwald had planned to rape her to humiliate her and at least one of the acolytes knew it. Two others, besides Queenie, were women themselves. Had they really just stood by, knowing their leader was going to do that to her?

" _Avada Kedavra_!" Corvus roared, and a body was heard dropping to the floor mere seconds later.

No longer able to eavesdrop quietly, she ran down the stairs to see one of the acolytes—Kraft, if she recalled correctly—lying dead on the floor in front of Grindelwald. She stared at Corvus' remorseless face, horrified. His use of the Killing Curse, no matter how deserved, was terrifying.

"Corvus..." she started, only to be cut off.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" Corvus repeated, only for Grindelwald to effortlessly block it.

"All is not as it seems," Grindelwald tried as smoothly as ever. "The—"

" _Avada_ —"

" _Expelliarmus_!" Vinda called out, Disarming Corvus.

Queenie drew her wand and pointed it at Vinda.

"Queenie..." the Frenchwoman trailed off threateningly.

"You follow him if you want to, Vinda," Queenie said, shaking her head. "I can't, not after learning what he's willing to do to get what he wants. My sister and... my boyfriend would never forgive me."

"Disapparate!" Grindelwald hissed, glaring at Queenie and at _her_ before disappearing into thin air. His followers left one by one, leaving their fallen comrade behind. It really demonstrated just how little Grindelwald and his ilk cared for one another.

She sidestepped the corpse, glancing at Queenie before going to Corvus who was despondently staring into space. Losing one's identity after spending decades searching for it couldn't be easy and for all the pain she'd gone through in her thirty years, she couldn't claim to even begin to understand what he was feeling.

"Corvus..." she whispered, cradling his face with her hands. He didn't reply, sweeping her up into an embrace instead. She held him tight, ignoring Queenie's presence.

He had never been Aurelius to her anyway and, one day soon, she'd show him that he was worth more than just a name.


	16. Late 1931

Late 1931

She sat on the Drawing Room sofa with Corvus, her left hand on top his right hand which was resting on his right knee. She sensed that although Corvus no longer harboured blind hatred for the man sipping his opposite them, he didn't trust him or have much of a high opinion of him. If Dumbledore was to be respected for only one thing, it would have to be the (rumoured) extensive magical power that had earnt him the accolade of 'The Great'. Corvus didn't even seem to respect that, which was worrying when she considered how powerful he once was.

"As I was saying, Miss Goldstein has been convicted of aiding a dangerous escapee criminal," Dumbledore stated regretfully. "I'm afraid MACUSA are much stricter with their sentences than the British and French authorities; she's been sentenced to five years."

She frowned. Queenie deserved punishment but there was something to be said about how she stood up to Grindelwald and his lieutenant in the end. As an American national, she was punished by her country's judicial system but it hardly seemed fair that a French wizard who technically committed the same crime got away without consequence. She was grateful that no one had any proof against Corvus, owing to his obscure role in Grindelwald's inner circle, but Queenie's sentence was too harsh.

"Could I do anything for her?" she found herself asking. "She's Tina's sister. And I think Jacob's been waiting for her all these years. I know she turned herself in but couldn't I testify in her favour?"

"Not after she's already been convicted. Besides, you would have to reveal your own"—he gestured to both her and Corvus—"involvement with Grindelwald to explain why you know what you know."

 _Involvement_. She despised being referred to as being involved with Grindelwald in any sort of sense especially given what he had tried to do to her last month. Next to her, Corvus shifted uncomfortably. He clearly didn't want to be exposed as a former acolyte of Grindelwald's any more than she wanted to be associated with the Dark wizard. If she had to sacrifice either Corvus (and, by extension, herself) or Queenie to save the other, her choice was obvious.

"I see," she conceded with a defeated sigh, giving Dumbledore a polite smile. "If you do happen across an alternative way for me to help her, please do tell me."

"Of course," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling. She blinked, a little startled by the display. "Now, I considered requesting this of you via a letter but I thought it'd be better to ask you in person."

She exchanged an apprehensive look with Corvus, wondering what Dumbledore wanted. The last thing he had wanted from her was for her to break Grindelwald's influence over Corvus. She had somewhat succeeded, though Grindelwald certainly ended up contributing to his own failure to keep Corvus' loyalty, she wasn't so sure that her success was down to her hard work rather than a stroke of luck because she happened to be someone Corvus loved. "Please, go ahead."

"Will the two of you join our movement against Grindelwald?"

Glancing at Corvus, she saw him nod reassuringly, silently encouraging her to answer first. She inhaled deeply, thinking about how to respond. In all honesty, she had already made her mind up weeks ago. Growing up, she had always taken her peaceful and quiet life for granted, always wishing that there was more going on in her life than learning Korean, English and French from her mother and doing chores. Even after learning what she was, instead of accepting that living a solitary life in the forest was the best course of action for someone like her, she'd wanted to integrate herself into society. Only after the novelty wore off and she experienced racism and xenophobia did she realise that the grass was not greener on the other side but, by then, she had already stupidly spent all of her 'inheritance' and was forced to seek out work to survive. Eventually, she'd ended up walking into prison—Le Cirque Arcanus—all on her own and was never able to return to the forest she'd spent her first twelve years in.

"I won't," she answered quietly, squeezing Corvus' hand to draw strength from him. Sure enough, a comforting warmth rushed through her body. She briefly looked into his eyes before redirecting her attention to Dumbledore who seemed disappointed. "I don't have very many days left as a person. I want to spend this last year or so of my life in peace. Well, relative peace." Dumbledore nodded. "I'm still very much against Grindelwald," she reaffirmed, just in case Dumbledore got the wrong idea. "I will help you in any way I can, but not in a full time, official capacity."

Dumbledore seemed to respect her wishes and nodded once more. He looked to the man sitting next to her. "And how about you, Mister Barebone?" She scowled before Corvus did. Dumbledore was anything but stupid; he had to know that Corvus did not like to be reminded of his abusive adoptive mother. What did he get out of intentionally upsetting Corvus?

"It's Monsieur Lestrange," Corvus corrected, his voice tight. If Dumbledore was trying to alienate Corvus, then he had succeeded. She didn't usually like him referring to himself as Corvus Lestrange but this time, she was almost proud of him. "And it's a no from me."

She turned to him so fast she almost got whiplash. "Corvus? Don't you want to fight Grindelwald?"

"Fighting Grindelwald can wait but spending time with you cannot," he explained, lightly caressing her face with his left hand. Even the sensation of Dumbledore's eyes burning into her skull couldn't stop her from leaning into his touch. "I'll make him pay for what he's done to you and to me but for now, I'll stay at home with you. I already wasted so much time running around for one corrupt wizard."

The implication was not lost on her. Corvus really did not trust Dumbledore one bit and the latter's behaviour towards the former didn't exactly look good. Still, Dumbledore wasn't the one who wanted innocent Non-Magique dead or enslaved.

"Corvus, please reconsider," she urged softly, reaching up for the hand on her face and placing hers on top. Her other hand was still resting on his other hand on his knee. "I'll be fine here, at home, with Dot."

He shook his head, gently removing his hand from her face and turning back to Dumbledore. "You can use this house as a safe house. Even Grindelwald can't get in here. But that's all I'll do until..." he paused, releasing a shaky breath. She felt her eyes sting. She knew he was thinking about the inevitable. "Until I'm no longer needed at home."

Turning away from both men, she let a stray tear roll down her cheek. _If only_. If only she was a normal woman.

.:. QK .:.

"I wouldn't be too offended if I were you," Newt said, fiddling with Pickett. "Dumbledore's like this with everyone."

She refrained from rolling her eyes, irritated. She had just spent the last few minutes telling Newt and Tina about how Dumbledore had taken a dig at Corvus for no reason at all. However, Newt was not taking the issue very seriously and Tina only offered a sympathetic look.

"Corvus is different from everyone!" she practically hissed, peering past Newt's shoulder to make sure Corvus was still out of earshot. She spotted him on the other side of the Dining Hall with Dot. "He probably thinks Dumbledore's targetting him, attacking him. I don't think he'd be wrong."

"Have you asked him how he feels about what happened?" Tina questioned not unkindly.

"No," she begrudgingly admitted. Tina had a point. She was merely guessing at this point, no matter how well she could read Corvus without having to speak. "But I know he felt uncomfortable and that he doesn't like being called by his adoptive name in general."

"Mrs Barebone was a nasty piece of work," Tina confirmed, her face dead serious.

"I know," she responded, her gaze drifting across the room until it landed on a portrait of a blonde Lestrange woman. She suddenly remembered Queenie and her eyes flew back to Tina. "I'm sorry about Queenie."

"Don't be," Newt piped up, startling both women. His eyes flickered between the two of them, his friend staring at him in disgust and his wife giving him a death glare. "I meant that Queenie was grateful to you for helping her attend our wedding," he added after seemingly realising his mistake.

She smiled sadly. "Still... although she wouldn't have stopped Grindelwald from tainting me that night, she told Corvus the truth about his so-called identity when she didn't have to. She helped me give him the push he so desperately needed to break free of Grindelwald's lies."

"How has he been holding up?" Tina asked, her eyes soft.

"How one feels when they've had not one but two identities ripped away from them," she replied somberly, catching a glimpse of Corvus brooding in an armchair before quickly looking back at Tina. "I worry about what'll happen to him... afterwards. He might close in on and isolate himself to such an extent that Grindelwald will easily be able to manipulate him again."

"Nothing will happen to you," Newt said, shaking his head, but he sounded unconvincing to her ears. "We'll find a way for you to overcome the curse."

She laughed heartlessly—there was no way to overcome the curse. They both knew that. Tina placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," she began gently. "As strange as it sounds, I've felt responsible for Credence ever since I first saw that woman abusing him. I'll be there for him."

She wanted to believe her, she really did, but Tina was a married woman with her own life. A full-time Auror, she wouldn't be able to spare time to check up on a friend in France, especially once the children started coming along. She didn't expect her to, either. That was a job for a wife. However, finding Corvus a pure-blood wife who didn't support Grindelwald was going to be difficult in the current political climate. She smiled weakly at her two friends before pinching the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.

Who would be there for Corvus when she was gone?


	17. 1933

1933

"Do you regret it?" Corvus asked, his head propped up on one elbow as he gazed down at her. They were lying in bed after a long day of nothing of consequence.

"Regret what?" she questioned absentmindedly, still buzzed from the _activities_ they'd been partaking in mere minutes ago.

"Not joining Dumbledore," he answered, brushing some stray hair out of her eyes. "And letting the duelling skills you spent years training for go to waste."

"I'm not a great duellist, or even a good one," she responded, smiling wryly. "You know that. What's the point in throwing myself into a fight when the only way I'm going to win is by taking a form that I despise?"

"Not everyone on Grindelwald's side is a good duellist. I think you should reconsider."

"I think _you_ should reconsider." He looked at her, apparently confused. She turned on her side to fully face him, the covers sliding off her shoulder. "Unlike me, you've got raw power, the likes of which I've only seen from Grindelwald himself."

"But that was because of my Obscurus," he said, his eyes drifting towards what had just been uncovered by her movement.

"Corvus!" she chided, blushing as she pulled the covers up. He averted his gaze, muttering an apology. "As I was saying, you were chosen by Grindelwald to eliminate Dumbledore who is said to be Grindelwald's only equal. Even without your Obscurus, you're as powerful as two of the greatest wizards in the world."

Corvus didn't speak, stroking her long ebony hair. She could only guess what he was thinking. He no doubt felt inadequate. His whole life he'd been searching for his true identity, only to have his hopes dashed by Leta the first time and by _her_ the second time. The blow she'd inflicted on him was undoubtedly the worse of the two; he'd only suspected that he was Corvus Lestrange for a few weeks but he'd been outright told that he was Aurelius Dumbledore and had believed it for years. He murmured something, stirring her from her thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"This was never my fight."

She frowned. He stopped playing with her hair, letting his hand drop onto her bare shoulder. "And exactly what fight would that be, Corvus? Hmm?" she implored, watching as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"A fight between Albus Dumbledore and Grindelwald, as it's always been..." he trailed off, sounding somewhat amused. She sighed, shaking her head on her pillow.

"Do you think the Scamanders are fighting for Dumbledore?" she inquired, exasperation seeping into her voice. "Do you think Grindelwald's acolytes are fighting for him?" Corvus remained silent, though he still looked bewildered. "Think about it, Credence."

The name was out of her mouth before she realised it when she saw him stiffen up and saw his eyes widen slightly. She didn't apologise for the slip of tongue nor did she correct herself, opting to turn away from him instead. She never slept with her back to him, it felt far too distant, but then again, she never called him by the 'wrong' name either.

.:. QK .:.

She forced herself to laugh at something Tina said, a strange sense of sadness sweeping over her. Tina had dropped by about twenty minutes ago, having spent the last few hours in the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France.

"What's wrong?" She almost jumped, looking up to see Tina staring at her in concern. "Have you fought with Cre—Corvus?"

She smiled at Tina's slip up, remembering her own not so long ago. "No, not more than usual. I just feel... emotional... and tired."

"I know what you mean," Tina said, briefly touching her abdomen. It was momentary, lasting for about a second or two, and she pulled her hand away almost immediately, but not before _she_ noticed. She'd seen Jemila often do the same thing when she was carrying her son and a little less so when carrying her now two-year-old daughter.

"Tina...?" she trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

"We were waiting for three months to pass. My mother in law doesn't believe in telling anyone other than family and close friends before that," she stated, rolling her eyes. She felt her heart drop at _close friends_ , and it must've shown on her face because Tina scrambled to explain herself. "If you lived in England, I would've told you as soon as I was sure. Newt and I still wanted to tell you but it's not exactly something we'd want to put in a letter."

Feeling her spirits lift again, she nodded. Letters between herself and her British friends were still susceptible to being intercepted even though Corvus hadn't been affiliated with Grindelwald since 1931.

"When do you expect it to be born?"

From the way Tina suddenly frowned, it didn't seem like she liked her child being referred to as it. She couldn't help it, though. She'd never been particularly fond of children and didn't like being around any of them except the Kama children who didn't really count because they were her (step) 'niece' and 'nephew'.

" _He_ will be born in May, hopefully," the dark-haired Auror replied, positively beaming. She suddenly felt a pang of guilt for talking to her pregnant friend in such a manner.

"He?" Tina nodded, cradling her abdomen again. "You're so lucky."

Tina looked up at her, appearing to be offended. "What do you mean? I'd be just as happy with a girl."

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that!" she protested quickly, flapping her hands about. "My kind would die for sons. Well, I mean my ancestors would've. I'm the only one left and I'm not so stupid to risk everything like they did." She mentally apologised to her foremothers.

"Oh," Tina let out, evidently surprised. "How many succeeded in having a son?"

"According to my mother? Just the one."

"And the rest of you have all been daughters?" She nodded. "How many generations is that, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I think I'm the twentieth generation, at least." Tina appeared to be shocked. "The first of our line was a concubine who was cursed by her lord's wife. It was after the Joseon Dynasty took over and declared that second wives wouldn't have the same rights as first wives but that they would be mere concubines and their children would be illegitimate. The wife vowed that the concubine and all of her daughters would suffer every night until they eventually lost their minds. My foremother found out exactly what the curse meant that very night but she had no choice but to bear her lord some children. They were all daughters. The cycle of concubinage kept repeating and my kind kept propagating until they realised that there was no cure for our affliction. They controlled themselves after that, running away from their lords either while pregnant with their first and only child or without becoming pregnant at all.

"They started to die out but a few generations down the line, one of my foremothers birthed a son. None of us had ever done that before and they'd all assumed that our kind were incapable of bearing sons. Only three remained in human form at the time: the son's mother, her firstborn, and a distant cousin. The daughter had child after child but they were all girls. The cousin forced the son to father her children, thinking he could give her sons because he himself was the only son born to one of us. All of their children were girls. She lost hope and threw herself and her small daughters into a ravine while their father helplessly watched on. After the tragic end to his family, the son begged his sister to stop propagating and she agreed. In time, she taught her daughters to stay away from men. Unfortunately, the fourth daughter took her own life because she was tired of her miserable existence. The other five daughters exiled themselves to a forest and four of them died childless. The youngest of all strayed from her intended path and used a passerby to become pregnant. She was my direct ancestor.

"The greed for a son continued but each Maledictus restricted herself to one child. Eventually, my mother was born. She was wise, far wiser than all those who came before her, and she decided that she would be the last of our line. I think, at some point, she realised that a circus performer like my grandmother permanently transformed well before a normal Maledictus. My grandmother turned at thirty-four but the normal age was somewhere in the forties. My mother threw herself into similar work and reached the age of twenty-four without even letting herself look at a man—our kind usually reproduce at fifteen years of age—but she forgot that her snake charmer was also a man. He somehow found out what she really was and how the curse propagated. He forced me into existence. He wanted to use me and the siblings he'd planned for me to generate more money for him in the snake charming business.

"And now, I'm the last one. My mother never said it but judging from my upbringing, I know she wanted me to be the last of our kind. I also became a circus performer, like my grandmother, not knowing that I'd later want to live for as long as I could. In any case, I surpassed my mother's abstinence record by never looking at a man until I was twenty-six and, unlike her, I will die without producing children."

"I'm so sorry," Tina cooed, making her feel a spike of irritation but she controlled herself. Tina was giving her a pitiful look. She hated pity.

"It is what it is," she commented bitterly, turning away from Tina's burning gaze and glancing out of the window, doing a double take when she spotted something. In the distance, she could see Albus Dumbledore fast approaching.

.:. QK .:.

After Tina and Dumbledore left, she followed Corvus to the library. He'd distanced himself from her ever since she'd called him by the name he hated, only seeing her when they took their meals together, and not inviting her to his bed or climbing into hers. She'd regretted it soon after but she couldn't bring herself to apologise. Whether he liked it or not, Credence was his most real name. It was the name given to him by the bitch who'd raised him whereas Aurelius had been a fake name and Corvus was a dead baby's name. However, she wouldn't call him by that name again. She didn't want to upset him further (and she didn't want to be a Mrs Barebone).

"What did Dumbledore want?" she asked, standing in front of the desk he was sitting behind. He peered up at her.

"He wants to live here for a while," he answered, tenting his fingers. She blinked. This was the last thing she'd expected even though Corvus had once offered their home as a safe house to Dumbledore right in front of her. "Him and his close allies. That includes the Scamanders and some of the British Aurors. Flamel's house has been compromised."

She sighed, recalling the drama that occurred the last time the manor house was used as a safe house. "Are you sure?"

"As long as you're okay with it," he responded, shrugging nonchalantly.

Her lips involuntarily twitched. "Me?"

He nodded slowly. "Even though you haven't been talking to me, you're still the lady of the house..."

Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't been talking to him? Since when? He was the one who'd been avoiding her. "You're the one who hasn't wanted to talk to me," she pointed out, trying to keep the childish whine out of her voice. "Understandably," she added, so as not to come off as sanctimonious.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me," she stated, trying to remember seeking him out during the last few weeks. She couldn't think of even one instance. She frowned. In fact, she could recall a few times when she heard the creaking of floorboards near the door of various rooms she regularly spent time in, including her bedroom.

He reached over the desk for her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Dot even told me she heard you crying once. I thought to give you some space after that."

As she pictured their house elf standing outside her door and listening in on her, she bit her lip to refrain from grinning like a madwoman. It wasn't funny at all, especially when Dot had obviously eavesdropped on her during one of the worst moments of her life—the moment she realised that she now had to transform every night to quell the beast inside her.

"I see," she managed to say, looking down at their entwined hands. She didn't know what else to say. She was terribly embarrassed that she'd believed Corvus would stop talking to her because of one insignificant name.

"I'll be actively helping Dumbledore from now on." Her eyes flew up to meet his and she found herself becoming inexplicably happy.

"What made you change your mind?" she implored curiously. "You said it wasn't your fight."

Standing up, he walked around the desk and gave her a brief peck. She blinked rapidly, startled. This was so out of character for him that she couldn't help but feel a little anxious considering what had happened the last time 'he' behaved unlike himself. However, she wasn't quite feeling like herself either. She wondered if there was something going around their household.

"Grindelwald tried to harm you," Corvus started, distracting her from her paranoid musings. "After the night you confronted me, I remembered what I told you after Dumbledore asked us to join him. I said I would spend time with you until I no longer could and then I'd make Grindelwald pay for what he did to us. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that because I didn't want to be a weapon for yet another great wizard... but you were right, no one's in this fight for Dumbledore and Grindelwald." She finally allowed her lips to curl up, nodding as she silently urged him to continue. "The Scamanders and others are in it so that their children won't have to grow up under a fascist regime and Grindelwald's followers are in it because they believe the No-Majs will destroy us if we don't destroy them first." He cupped her cheek with the hand he wasn't using to hold hers. "I'm in it for you, for me, for us."

Her eyes stung with tears as she placed her free hand on top of his. She held the tears back, giving him a bittersweet smile as he led her out of the library. _Don't fight for me. Fight for yourself,_ she told him. _I'll not be in your life for much longer._


	18. 1934

1934

Wol Hee tossed and turned in bed, her body trapped in limbo between fatigue and restlessness. She kicked the duvet off, only to shiver straight after and pull it back up to cover her body. She couldn't understand what was happening to her body these days—one minute she felt fine and then the next she literally couldn't drag herself out of bed. In fact, she often felt like rolling up into a ball and sitting in a cool spot for hours on end. No matter how lazy she was, she'd never before desired such a thing. At first, she'd wondered if it was a sign of her imminent final transformation but when she thought about her mother's final year, she couldn't recall her behaving like that. Corvus stirred beside her, reminding her of his presence, and she held her breath, forcing herself to stay still until she heard his telltale steady breathing. She slowly exhaled, glad that she hadn't woken him up this time.

Most nights, her late-night antics jostled him awake but he always said no whenever she asked him if she should sleep in her former bedroom. He wanted her to know that she could sleep in his bed every night, viper or not. She knew he'd been increasingly worried about her as of late, especially because it felt like they were living out their last days together before they were torn apart forever. Oddly enough, the thought of her impending doom quelled her unease and she soon found her eyes drooping to a close...

The next time she woke up, sunlight was streaming in on her through the wide diamond studded windows. She grimaced, turning away from the sun and blindly reaching out for Corvus. Her eyes flew open when she felt cold bedsheets instead of his warm body in the spot he was supposed to be occupying. While it was true that Corvus usually woke up before her, he never woke up this early—a quick glance at the antique clock told her that it was seven past seven. She yawned, still tired, and closed her eyes. She needed just five more minutes.

A knock on her door roused her out of her state of almost sleep and she looked at the clock to see that she'd slept another three hours. She mumbled permission for her visitor to enter the room. A weeping Dot ran into the room, snivelling as she repeatedly apologised in what sounded like garbled French.

Wol Hee immediately sat up and leaned forwards, cold dread filling her at the state of the house-elf. She'd never seen a house-elf cry before, not even the one back at Le Cirque Arcanus who was almost always on the receiving end of Skender's unprovoked cruelty and anger.

"Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?" she asked hoarsely, swallowing deeply as her hands clammed up.

"C'est—c'est Monsieur Lestrange."

.:. QK .:.

The next day, Wol Hee stood in the mausoleum long after everyone else had left, staring at the ornate coffin that'd been reserved for Corvus Lestrange V but now held the man who'd been impersonating him for the last five years. She still couldn't believe everything that'd happened in the last twenty-four hours. _He_ was gone, just like that. It was ironic, really, that the two of them had been worrying about her early demise—her descent into her blood curse—when he'd ended up being the one to die first.

It'd all happened so fast. Even now, she could still remember the shock horror of finding out that he was already dead a few hours before she woke up from her snooze and that she'd been the last one to find out. No one had bothered to tell her until her poor, devastated house-elf found the strength to approach her and break the news to her. She blamed Dumbledore and her so-called friends for hiding her own loved one's death from her but most of all, she blamed herself for not being vigilant enough to spot the signs of trouble sooner. She should have known something was wrong when _he_ wasn't in bed at seven past seven but instead of investigating, she went back to sleep.

A painful lump formed in her throat as her red-rimmed eyes welled up with tears for what felt like the millionth time. She held back a sob, forcing herself to turn away from _his_ coffin. Her tears wouldn't bring him back to her or tell her why and how he died.

"Adieu," she whispered as she was assaulted by a crushing sense of finality. She wavered as she walked towards the exit, barely stopping herself from turning back and climbing into the empty coffin—probably meant for Leta—next to his.

When she got outside, she was surprised to see Yusuf and Jemila sitting on a bench near the entrance. Ever since she'd more or less demanded that Dumbledore and his allies move out of her manor house, she hadn't expected anyone to be waiting outside the mausoleum for her, especially hours after the funeral proceedings had finished. But, of course, Yusuf and Jemila were here. They were her friends before being Dumbledore's associates and, since they lived in France anyway, they weren't part of the group she'd thrown out of her home. She felt guilty for having forgotten them.

"Merci d'être là pour moi," she said, hoping they understood just how much she appreciated their company during such a difficult time. Yusuf nodded politely, giving her a compassionate look with that piercing gaze of his, and Jemila put an arm around her back, comfortingly squeezing her other arm as she led her to her specified mode of transport. Yusuf raised an eyebrow at her choice. "Je ne peux pas transplaner aujourd'hui."

"Ça va," Yusuf said, tipping his head at Jemila before offering Wol Hee a reserved smile. "Nous viendrons plus tard chez toi."

Wol Hee nodded at him, trying to return the smile but ended up churning out a grimace instead. She and Jemila said bye Faire la bise, and the latter and her husband Disapparated on the spot. Wol Hee sniffed, beginning to make her way home.

.:. QK .:.

After dinner with her friends, Wol Hee walked through the Great Hall on her way to the library, specifically the antechamber _he_ once used as his study. It had come to be her sanctuary, the only place in the manor house that she hadn't allowed herself or anyone else, besides Dot, to touch. With a small sigh, she entered the room, the comforting atmosphere immediately enveloping her. Looking around the room, she could almost imagine him sitting behind his desk, grinning at her as she sauntered in and started talking to him but she frowned when she reminded herself that he wasn't there and he never would be.

She wiped at her bloodshot eyes, staring listlessly at the empty desk. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was the one that was marked to go first, not him. Between the attempt on her life and her blood curse, she should've been long gone yet here she was, standing idle in his library study. It wasn't supposed to happen like this at all. He was supposed to be the one sitting there and reminiscing about her before ultimately moving on with his life and finding someone else and continuing the Lestrange line. He was supposed to be aiding Dumbledore in his fight against the despicable Grindelwald.

 _Dumbledore_. She scoffed. The man had been the first one to locate the body but had instructed everyone, even her house-elf, not to inform her until he allowed them to. At first, she couldn't believe his audacity but then she remembered just how manipulative he could be and the disbelief soon gave way to suspicion. She'd always known that Dumbledore, like Grindelwald, could sacrifice anyone for what he deemed to be the greater good. She couldn't help but think he had something to do with the death or at least knew something she didn't. She refused to accept his view that the (dormant) Obscurus had killed its host even though the rational part of her mind told her it was the most likely explanation.

Perhaps it was because she had been crying on and off the entire day or because she was overthinking things but as she stood there in the library, she was hit by a sudden bout of dizziness and blindly reached out for something to grab onto, bracing herself against the desk as she lost her balance. Unable to stay on her feet even a second longer, she dropped into _his_ chair and put her head in her hands, her elbows planted firmly on the desk. Requiring a handkerchief, she reached for the handle of the top drawer of the desk, momentarily forgetting that it had an enchantment on it that prevented it from opening. By the time she realised, she'd already gripped the handle and pulled the drawer open, revealing stacks of letters and a few vials of memories. She frowned for two reasons: firstly, the drawer had never opened before; she had tried more than a few times, and secondly, all of the memories she knew of were stored away in the pensieve room on the second floor.

Wol Hee wasn't the type to snoop—she had learnt the hard way that it wasn't worth it when her childhood sneaking around caused her to discover the horrible truth about her lineage—but she couldn't help herself from taking a peek at the letter on the top of the pile. She swiped it and opened it, scanning the contents as her eyes almost popped out of their sockets in shock and re-read it a couple of times to let the new found information sink in. Sticking her nose where it didn't belong hadn't done any good for her back when she was a child but it would've given _Corvus_ all the answers he'd been looking for. The thought gave her pause. She'd never seen him try to open the draw; maybe he already had done some digging of his own.

No... surely he would've told her if he knew?

.:. QK .:.

Sometime later, Wol Hee stopped by the nursery she'd redesigned a few years earlier and approached the crib, recalling the time Corvus had stood in that very same spot and lamented about being the last of his line. She sighed inwardly, thinking about how wrong he was. He'd just needed a little more time to see himself proven wrong. He should've been here now. She had always assumed that he would be here with her during her last few days, holding her in her last few hours of humanity but life really was full of surprises and such a thing, such a comfort to her, was never to be. It was, undoubtedly, yet another consequence of her blood curse.

She hissed, basking in the knowledge that although her ancestor's wife had ensured the suffering of at least twenty generations of her people, the bitch's triumph had finally come to an end. She, Wol Hee 'Nagini' Lestrange, the bastard descendant of the jealous witch's husband by his concubine, had subverted the curse. No woman would suffer a fate like hers again.

She stared at the crib one more time before turning away from it. She would forget it, in time. One by one, she'd forget everything and everyone she'd once held dear. She could even attack a loved one. It was only right that she left her beloved Lestrange Manor and her beloved France behind and exile herself to a faraway land. She went to the door.

 _Adieu, Corvus._

She slithered out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring the sobs of her house-elf who was running after her. "Madame, Dot servira bien le jeune Monsieur Lestrange!"

 _Adieu, Dot._

Wol Hee, now a true Nagini forever, left her home of the last five years without hesitation.

It was time to move on.


End file.
